


Eight Ways to Sunday

by LacePendragon



Series: For Better or For Worse [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Additional Content All Over the Place, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Expanded/Modern/Urban/Safe Remnant, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Ancient magic, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Are There Grimm? Stay Tuned To Find Out, Blood and Injury, Bruh. Do You Even Know Me? Pffft. 'Just' Slice of Life. Please., But Not Just Yet. For Now? Yeah. I'd Call It:, Canon-Typical Violence, Challenged Bigotry, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Daemons, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Disabled Characters, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Epic Length, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Familiars, Faunus Still Exist, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Foreshadowing Abound, Foster Care, Foster Family, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gains a Plot, High School, Highs and Lows, Intrigue, It's Gonna Get Intense, Just You God Damn Wait Folks, Just you wait - Freeform, Limb Dismemberment, Lots of Secrets and Mystery, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Magical Tattoos, Martial Arts, Mental Illness, Mild Bigotry, Mild Horror, Multi, Mystery, Non-Permanent Relationships, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Sexual Abuse, Please Read the Chapter Summaries and Author's Notes, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post Romantic Abuse, Prosthetics, Puppy Love, Ragtag Bunch of Misfits, Really Fucking Long Fic, Referenced/Off-Screen Smut, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Secrets, Shapeshifting, Slice of Life, Slice of Life Into Drama, Slow Burn, Spooky, Surrealism, They're Important And I Worked Hard On Them, Trans Characters, Trauma Recovery, Trigger warnings in chapters, You Think I'd Just Write Slice of Life?, character driven, epic slow burn, everybody's queer, long fic, non-binary characters, past parental abuse, unreality, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-20 20:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16562741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacePendragon/pseuds/LacePendragon
Summary: idiom: to tackle every problem, overcome every obstacle, challenge every misconception, and to succeed, despite all oddsOn a small island off the coast of Sanus, in a world filled with magic, the town of Patch thrives. A close community, Patch is filled with eccentric people, curious oddities, and some of the strangest magic out there. For the citizens of Patch, its oddities are everyday fare, but for those just moving in, it can be quite an adjustment.Some are starting jobs, some are starting school, some are simply continuing the same lives they've always lived. Regardless of their origin, and regardless of how long they've lived there, Patch is a place where anyone and everyone can find who they're meant to be.And for the teens and kids in Patch, playful and wild as they can be, tucked away on their own little island, there are always adventures to be had, whether it's climbing trees, exploring caves, or even, if one is lucky (or unlucky) enough, discovering secrets of the past.Truly, Patch is a unique place made lovely by its size and lovelier still by its peace and quiet. A peace and quiet that, through relationships and adventure, may soon be interrupted.





	1. Magic in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> **Notice About Triggers/Warnings**  
>  Past sexual abuse, romantic abuse, parental abuse, and more are discussed in this fic, but **nothing** is ever shown on screen. Some characters may have minor flashbacks, but there will never be any explicit content of this kind. These chapters will be tagged with notices as to where to skip over sensitive material for those who need it. If you have any concerns, please let me know.
> 
> Bigotry will also be tackled in this fic, including homophobia, transphobia, sexism, racism, and religious bigotry. All of these will be tackled and challenged. The opinions of many of the characters, as always, do not reflect those of the author.
> 
> Triggers will be listed at the top of each chapter in the author's notes, so please check them if you need to. They will be tagged liberally, and there will be a note as to the severity for your own safety. Thank you.
> 
> If you need anything, you can [contact me on Tumblr at AniPendragon.](http://anipendragon.tumblr.com/) Anons are on for those who need it. Hate will be deleted both here and on my Tumblr.
> 
>  **Headcanons**  
>  The headcanons listed below exist for several purposes. Firstly, to inform you, the audience, of anything that might make you curious or uncomfortable. Secondly, to allow me a way to see, at a glance, what I've told you, the audience. And, thirdly, so that I do not have to go through a song and dance for every single headcanon on this list. Sexualities, obviously, are not included, because those would make a much longer list and frankly, I didn't want to.
> 
> If there is anything here you absolutely do not want to read, then I suggest you hit the back button. If you don't particularly care and want to be surprised, feel free to scroll past this part of the note. If you have any questions/curiosities, feel free to let me know!
> 
> These headcanons are subject to be added to, and, upon uploading a chapter after these headcanons have been updated, there will be a note in that chapter's author's notes letting you know the changes made.
> 
>  _Trans Characters:_ Jaune Arc, Blake Belladonna, Fox Alistair, Penny Polendina, Winter Schnee, Oscar Pine, Mercury Black, Velvet Scarlatina, Tyrian Callows, Gwen Darcy, Bartholomew Oobleck, Neopolitan, Nolan Porfirio.
> 
>  _Non-Binary Characters:_ Ozpin, Lie Ren, Scarlet David, Reese Chloris, Matte Skye, Nebula Violette, Coco Adel.
> 
> There are also two intersex characters, one who identifies as a cis boy, and one who identifies as non-binary. The latter is listed above.
> 
>  _Physical Disabilities/Ailments:_ Blind Fox; Amputee & Chronic Pain James; Half Blind Weiss; Partial Albinism Coco; Chronic Pain & damaged leg Tyrian; Amputee Mercury. Type 1 Diabetic Nora; Type 1 Diabetic Scarlet; Type 1 Diabetic Velvet.
> 
>  _Mental Illnesses/Disabilities/Ailments:_ Autistic & Socially Anxious Jaune; Autistic Penny; Autistic & PTSD Tyrian; Social Anxiety & Mild Trauma Blake; PTSD & BPD & Bipolar I & Anxious Raven. ADHD Nora. Chronically Fatigued & SAD & Anxious Ren, PTSD James.
> 
>  _Also:_ Heights have been adjusted to be more realistic (tall men are now 6 feet instead of 7 1/2), though ratios remain similar. Also, some characters are chubbier because they aren't all athletes in this world.
> 
>  **Anticipated Questions**  
>  _But Ani, didn't you post this before?_  
>  I posted a fic of the same title, yes, but they're not the same fic.
> 
>  _So this isn't the old Sunday? Then, what is it?_  
>  This is a reborn version of Sunday with some themes from older fics that are no longer on my account. There's a fair amount of drama, some pretty fantastic intrigue, lots of world-building and magic, and, of course, intricate and complex characterization and relationships. Basically, expect anything and everything. This one is gonna blow up fast, folks. For those of you who were around for my old stuff - you remember my one canon universe fic and my one super long superhero fic? Yeah? Yeah. Be prepared.
> 
>  _Why name it the same thing?_  
>  Because I wanted to.
> 
>  _I have an unlisted question!_  
>  Ask below or on my Tumblr.
> 
>  **World Building Notes**  
>  Because not all world building is relevant to the story, there will be some world building done via author's notes. These may offer insights and clues before they come up in the fic, much like the World of Remnants and director's commentary. Think of it as an inside peek into details that maybe none of the relevant characters know!
> 
>  
> 
> **It is HIGHLY recommended that you read all notes, all summaries, all tidbits, etc. Everything is relevant to the story. You do not HAVE to, but the story will be all the stronger for it. Trust me. Nothing is without purpose. Not here. Not now.**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curtains open on the town of Patch, a small town on a magical island just off the coast of Statera on one of the four Valean Islands in Sanus. From new arrivals, to old friends, to strange circumstances, to a burning curiosity that no other place on Earth can cause, the town of Patch is filled with opportunity and wonder like no other. Though, whether that is a fantastical thing, or a terrifying thing, depends on who you ask.
> 
> Certainly there are many voices in this chorus; many instruments in this symphony, but one sour note can ruin all the rest.
> 
> Can you find it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Greatest Show [Opening Theme Music for EWtS]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpJ8CbrWX_Y)  
>    
> Trigger warnings for this chapter: none that I'm aware of. Feel free to let me know.
> 
> Enjoy! I'm really excited to show this off and don't have much to say at the moment because I'm mostly screaming.

**Blake Belladonna**

The bookstore loomed, tall, old, and brilliant; an overseer whose shadow spread across the half-filled parking lot. The morning sun had not yet crested the three-storey building of brick and mortar and old, thick windows that were painted and speckled with artwork and announcements of the last twenty years. A thin mist whispered between the parked cars and slow-moving legs of their owners, tugging at pant legs and entangling in loose clothing. It dared not cross the threshold of the ancient bookstore, instead vanishing at the barest hint of sun.

Blake let the car door smack shut as she stepped out into the parking lot, tugging her light sweater. Her father’s door smacked shut as well, and she glanced over her shoulder to see him straightening up, shaking off the morning mist as it latched on.

“Damn thing,” he muttered, looking over the car at her with a wry look. “You think they’d learn by now.” Blake nodded. The will-o’-the-wisps were out early this year, playing with mists and lights at dawn and dusk. Thankfully, without the night, they were much less tantalizing, but they’d been around long enough, and in enough density, that the news had issued a blanket warning and a suggested curfew for children under twelve just last week.

At least with school starting next week, none of the kids would be out on their own at sunset. Though Blake suspected that the pathing lanterns would be lit for the first few weeks, regardless.

“You’d think,” replied Blake, drily. She stretched, arms above her head and yawning. The ends of her hair brushed just below her chin, and she reached up, tugging at a strand before adjusting the beret she wore. It covered her cat ears, which sat mostly flat against her head. They twitched, unused to being covered for more than a few minutes. “So… bookstore?” She shook off a wisp of mist that wrapped around her wrist, tugging at her.

“Someone’s eager,” her dad teased, his eyes twinkling. “Let’s go.” He nodded toward the store, circling the car to walk alongside Blake as she skipped toward the store. This morning, she knew, was going to become one of her favourite days of the year: the mega sale at the half-price, used bookstore.

“Can you blame me?” she asked, staring up at the store. Her gaze followed the rays of sunlight as they brushed the bookstore, igniting the stained-glass windows in the third floor. As she watched, a stained-glass phoenix lifted off from its window, flying off into the air and scattering brilliant rays of oranges, reds, and yellows as it passed through sunbeams.

Blake’s dad rested a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. “No,” he said, voice soft. “Not at all.”

Together, the two moved through the mist and stepped through the door and into the massive bookstore beyond.

 _Flight of the Pages_ was a store Blake had only visited once before, when her family had moved to Patch only a few weeks prior, but it was already Blake’s favourite place in the world outside her home. It only had one main room for people to walk around in, but that room was two stories tall and filled with tables upon tables and shelves upon shelves of books. Thousands of books, if not tens of thousands, all for less than two dollars a piece.

A few dozen people already milled about the store, despite the early hour. No one looked up as Blake and her dad stepped into the store, bar a wispy, snowy owl that perched atop one of the many shelves. Blake swallowed, the mark on her wrist growing hot beneath her sleeves.

She tugged back the sleeve and lifted her left hand, watching as the mark on her wrist, shaped like a pair of cat’s eyes, glowed purple for a moment before a wispy, dark purple cat with golden eyes leaped from her wrist and landed on the ground before her. The cat, outlined with smoky black-purple lines and her body translucent violet, looked up at Blake with her glowing gold eyes.

Gambol mewed up at Blake, twining herself around Blake’s legs and whispering wordless comfort into her mind. Blake crouched and scratched behind Gambol’s ears, before nodding toward the owl, who watched the exchange with its rose-coloured eyes.

Gambol cast a look up at Blake, meowed in Blake’s mind, and vanished into the shadows beneath a table. Blake focused her attention on Gambol’s presence for a moment, easily following her progress across the store and toward the owl.

“Everything all right?” asked Blake’s dad, resting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and saw him narrow his eyes at a figure with white hair and a cane. “Fairly certain it’s theirs.” His voice was low, barely a murmur against her ear.

“Fine,” said Blake, her gaze flicking from the figure to her father, then to the books. “Just nervous.” The unsaid words hung between them, murmurs of the past year darkening the shadows outside and thickening the air that seemed to tug at Blake’s lungs. “I’m going to go look at books.”

Her dad beamed at her. “Good,” he said, “try not to fill too many baskets.” He chuckled, and Blake found herself snorting at his words. Right. Too many baskets. She was going to fill _carts_ , not just baskets.

She struck across the store, a small part of her mind still focused on Gambol’s presence in the store.

Blake passed around several people, one with a child and both with bunny ears, and two younger teens who were studying the comic section with great intensity.

The fantasy section, sprawled across four separate tables, was largely empty of people, leaving Blake to wander without hinderance as she approached it. Above the tables, a handful of candles floated, lit but unchanging, and not a drop of wax to be found.

Two creatures of smoke and aura and soul leaped across the table, and Blake stumbled back, watching the two naeta circle around to the teens in the comic section before disappearing into a mark on a neck, and a mark on an ear.

Blake shook her head and returned to studying the books, allowing herself to fall into covers, summaries, and beautiful, sometimes cracked spines. She traced words and pictures, gaze flickering from one book to the next. Her progress was slow, feet shuffling across the concrete floor without a sound.

As she moved and read, a small stack of books grew next to her, slowly climbing toward the ceiling until Blake had to reach up on her toes to place the next book.

With a frown, Blake reached up to place that next book, only to bump into the tower and send it flying.

“Easy,” came her father’s voice. The books froze in mid-air, then drifted toward the cart he leaned against. He had one hand lifted, a circular glyph twined around his wrist, its glowing sigils the same, golden colour of his eyes. Behind him, Shroud, his own naeta, stood with a basket balanced on his back. The black panther eyed Blake with the same weary amusement her dad often did. She chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“Sorry,” she said. “I thought I had it.”

“You hadn’t cast,” he replied, his voice low. Several heads had turned in their direction when he’d cast, but they looked away now, no doubt intimidated by the massive shadow beast that stood next to him.

Blake frowned, remembering. But no, she hadn’t cast. She’d simply grown used to the books at her old school, charmed to stack as high as one dared. Most books were not like that, but then, most things were not like her old school.

A school she never wanted to return to. Thankfully, she didn’t have to.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Blake sighed and leaned against the table, her fingers curling into its edge. “Yeah,” she said, staring at the floor. “Tired.” And she was. She hadn’t slept right since they’d moved here, her dreams twisting into nightmares at a moment’s notice. “But this is worth it, really.” She offered her dad a tired smile.

It had taken two days to convince her to leave the house for this. Now, in the midst of the thousands upon thousands of books, she didn’t want to leave, even if her anxiety was a living thing, twisting at her lungs and heart until her chest ached with something akin to heartbreak.

“I’m glad,” said her dad, smiling. “Why don’t you take Shroud with you, he can carry your books.” It was a friendly enough suggestion, but Blake knew it held another meaning: ‘he can keep an eye on you.’

She didn’t take offense. In his shoes, she’d do the same thing.

“Sure,” said Blake, “come on, Shroud.” She gestured toward the next set of tables and he followed after her, dutiful as always, as her dad struck off toward the cookbooks.

As she moved, Gambol leaped down from some unseen place and landed atop Shroud, perching on his head and neck. Shroud huffed but didn’t shake her off. Blake met Gambol’s gaze and felt relief wash through their bond, an alert that the owl and their person were nothing to worry about.

Of course, they weren’t. She’d been paranoid. But really, who could blame her?

With a shake of her head and a tired smile, Blake led her little party of felines toward the rest of the fantasy books. There were still hundreds to look at, and she wasn’t leaving until she looked at them all.

* * *

**Ruby Rose**

Ruby laid, sprawled on her back in the grass, one arm extended into the air and fingers slowly sketching out a smoky glyph that held two copies of an identical sigil. She frowned, squinting against the sunlight that flittered through the leaves of her makeshift tree canopy, slowly shifting the connections between the two sigils. But, no matter how she moved them, the telltale spark of magic never ignited her fingertips.

With a huff, Ruby let the smoky, make-believe glyph fall away, pouting up at the leaves as they rustled from the morning breeze. She closed her eyes, the warmth of the sun and the cool of the shade intermingling and reminding her of the early hour. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet and this was the last week of summer. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to sleep in at all, so she wanted to take advantage of it while she still could.

Except she wasn’t tired, and she and Yang had plans today to go to the docks and feed the ducks and the geese and the nest of baby griffins who were being raised by the geese after their mom had died. One of the papers, _Patchwork Daily,_ was keeping up with the story and, if the most recent story was true, the griffins were on track to become town guard animals. Which was _super cool._

“Ruby?” Her ma’s voice echoed through the backyard. A second later, a yip from Zwei sounded and he landed on her stomach. She groaned, jerking upright and opening her eyes. Zwei licked her face and left a wet patch on her cheek.

She whined, rubbing at her cheek as she pushed him off.

“Zwei, no,” she groaned, drawing out the vowels. Ma shook her head as she wandered over to Ruby’s spot of shadow. “Hey, Ma, is everything okay?” She tipped her head, staring up at her Ma. Her long, black hair was pulled back into a ponytail today, and the little flowers in it meant that Mom had done it.

Cute!

“Just fine,” Ma replied, holding out her hand to Ruby. Ruby took it, letting Ma pull her upright with a grin. “Yang said you two needed a ride to the docks?” She tipped her head to one side, her mark, shaped like a gear with a feather wrapped around it, just barely visible on her collarbone before disappearing into her shirt. It was faded, instead of bright and coloured in smoky grey, so that meant Muninn was still sleeping, resting in the crook of Ma’s soul.

Ruby’s own mark, three petals twisting in the wind, itched against her lower back, letting her know that Crescent was awake and curious. But Ruby didn’t want to let her out until they got to the docks, where Crescent could run all over the place and do whatever she wanted. Maybe this time she wouldn’t chase the baby ducks. But Ruby doubted it.

“Yeah!” Ruby beamed at her, still squeezing Ma’s hand. “Are you gonna stay with us?” She stared with wide eyes, smile spreading further.

Ma shook her head, sighing. “Unfortunately, I’ve got other plans.” She grimaced, then shrugged. “Doctor.”

Ma had an appointment? Ruby hadn’t known that. Usually that stuff was on the big family whiteboard weeks in advance, but today was totally empty for Ma. Dad was off too, because school hadn’t started up yet, and Mom was off in Vale, working for the week. She’d be taking the ferry back to Patch tomorrow afternoon. It was the last distance job she had this summer, then she’d be back to just working in Patch.

“Oh, okay,” said Ruby, trying to hide her disappointment. “That’s okay! You gotta be healthy.” She tugged Ma toward the house. “But make sure you don’t have an appointment on Halloween!” said Ruby, her excitement bubbling back up again. “You promised you’d take me to get my focus!”

Ma hummed, following along with Ruby’s tugging. “Did I? I don’t recall?” Her voice had that sorta distant teasing tone it got when she was making fun of Dad. “Are you sure? You can’t be turning thirteen yet.” Ruby pushed open the sliding glass door into the house, Zwei running ahead to his water, and turned, putting her hands on her hips.

“Ma,” she whined, drawing out the vowel. “Thirteen is the most important birthday!” She stomped a foot and pouted, acting as dramatic as Ma was. “You have to take me _on_ my birthday. You have to!” She stared up at Ma with big, round eyes. “Please?” She clasped her hands together in front of her, just below her chin, and pouted as big as she could.

Ma sighed and ruffled her hair. “How could I say no to that face?” she asked, an easy smile crossing her own. “You know what you want yet?”

The two passed through the back area and into the kitchen, where Yang was shovelling Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Puffs cereal into her mouth with one hand and scrolling through Twitter on her phone with her other.

“I want a sword,” said Ruby, punching one fist into the air.

Yang snorted around her cereal. Ma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Ruby,” said Ma, with that sort of half-tired, half-amused voice she said most things in. “You know only registered military and hunters are allowed weapons for foci.” She folded her arms across her chest, but it was loose and absent, instead of defensive or worried.

Ruby sighed, drawing it out as long and grumpy as she could. “But Ma, weapons are _cool._ ”

With another snort, Yang dropped her spoon and flipped her hair over one shoulder as she turned to look at Ruby, one arm sprawled over the back of the chair and Zwei rubbing against her legs.

“Come on, sis, even _I_ didn’t get a focus that dangerous,” she said. She lifted one hand, showing off one of the twin, half-obsidian, half-gold bracelets that wrapped twice around each wrist. “You gotta pick something special. It’s the only one you get for like, the next five years.” She shrugged, reaching up and tugging her fingers through her golden hair.

Ruby squinted at the bracelets, humming. She really didn’t know what she wanted to do for her focus. Yeah, a sword would be cool, but she knew it was impossible and super impractical. Foci were supposed to be small, or something you could take with you everywhere if they weren’t. Yang had her bracelets, Dad had his tattoos, Mom had her wedding rings, and Ma had the silver raven pendant she wore in her hair every day. Even Uncle Qrow’s focus was special to him, a crooked cross necklace that he’d worn for as long as Ruby could remember.

Every focus was special to its owner, just like all the books always said they should be, but Ruby didn’t really have anything special like that. Sure, she loved old school weapons and magic, but she couldn’t really turn those into a focus. What else could she use?

Hrm.

“You have two months to figure it out, little rose,” said Ma, ruffling Ruby’s hair again. “Take your time and do your research. I’m sure whatever you pick will be perfect.”

Ruby sighed. “Yeah, I guess,” she said. “I’m gonna go get dressed, then can we go?” she asked.

Yang gave her a thumb’s up and Ma nodded. With a whoop, Ruby turned and ran for her room, half-skipping and with Zwei at her heels.

She passed through the kitchen and into the living room, where the morning news was still playing. Apparently, there was a new owlcat breeder just outside of Patch who was very sweet and good at her job. Ruby hesitated for a moment to coo at the kittlets before ducking around the huge couch and heading for the stairs.

All the family pictures that hung on the wall of the hallway and the stairs smiled as Ruby went by, stuck in their permanent loops of laughter and joy, caught on camera. She felt a warmth in her toes that meant today was going to be a lucky day. She loved lucky days. They were always, well, _lucky._

Ruby skipped into her room, which was filled with posters of her idols, painted in shades of red and pink, covered with pillows and blankets and plushies that she’d been gathering since she was a baby.

With a smile and a hum, Ruby dug through her clothes. Today was gonna be _awesome._

* * *

**James Ironwood**

The brilliant midday sun shone down upon the world as James watched Penny skip her way down the sidewalk and toward the older bungalow house that was their destination. A moving van was parked in the driveway and a modest car was parked on the curb just beyond it. However, the people moving into the house, who James and Penny had come to help, weren’t anywhere in sight.

Penny’s cheerful humming carried upon the breeze and into James’ ears, easing his anxiety about the current situation. When Klein had called him, weeks prior, in a terrified state to explain what had happened to Jacques and Willow Schnee, he almost hadn’t believed Klein.

But Klein had scarcely lied in the twenty plus years James had known him, and so James had had to accept the truth: Jacques and Willow Schnee were dead, the Schnee fortune and company were going to shareholders, and the three Schnee children were left out in the cold.

Thankfully, government connections came in handy, and getting Klein full custody of the trio had been quick and relatively painless, as had moving them down to Patch so James could help with finances and child support. Though, he’d originally suggested that the four simply move in with himself, Penny, and Sun, but Klein had insisted he couldn’t do that, that it would be too crowded, and, well, James had agreed.

“Do you see them, Dad?” called Penny, her lyrical voice tickling his ears and allowing the last remnants of tightness to slip free from his chest, leaving him mostly relaxed.

“Not yet,” said James, slipping his hands into his pockets. The glove on his right tugged at the seam of his jeans, but he ignored it. While it was still warm enough to go gloveless, he had no wish to, especially since this was the first time he’d be meeting the Schnee children.

Though, considering all but one was older than Penny, they were hardly the ‘children’ he so often remembered them as.

Penny cast a look over her shoulder to James, a twinkle in her green eyes and her freckles glowing the same colour. She turned back toward the bungalow and took off, racing across the grass and toward the front door without hesitation. As she ran, the grass bloomed beneath her sandaled feet, flowers erupting across the lawn in a brilliant array of colours and spreading all the way down to the sidewalk. Across the street, an older gentleman walking his small dog paused, his shock clear on his face even from this distance.

James narrowed his eyes at the man, who shuffled, obviously uncomfortable at being caught staring, and hurried along with his dog. That done, James turned his attention back to Penny and watched as vines rippled up through the grass, reaching to tangle around her arms and legs, climbing across her sundress, slithering into her hair, and tangling themselves through her fingers when she knocked on the door.

James gave a soft sigh as he approached the bungalow from the cobblestone pathway that led to the driveway, his gaze following some of the creeping greenery that twisted along the foundation and brick of the house and wound its way up toward the roof. He’d have to remember to get Penny to call it all back before they left. It wouldn’t do well to have so much heavy greenery on an old house like that, especially just as the rainy season was beginning.

The door, an old, red thing, swung open with a great creak just as James reached Penny. He laid a hand on her shoulder, aware of the vines that crept up across the edges of his gloves and toward his long sleeves.

From inside the house, a small boy with white hair and big, pale eyes stared out at them, the hunch of his shoulders and curl of his body revealing his fear.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Whitley?” guessed James. The boy’s eyes grew wide. “My name is James Ironwood. We spoke on the phone the other day. I’m a friend of Klein’s.”

Whitley stared at him, brow furrowing and lips pursing as he seemed to take in the sight on his doorstep. A man in long sleeves, despite it being noon and August, and a little girl with glowing freckles, covered in moving vines and flowers. He suspected they were quite the pair to someone from Atlas.

Atlas, a small province within the United North, had all but banned public displays of magic years ago. And here, in Patch, where magic was as alive as anything else, there was nowhere to hide from it.

James wondered, as Whitley seemed to finish his judgements of the two, if Whitley had ever seen someone who wasn’t fully human before.

And well, he supposed, as Whitley stepped back from the door, now the boy had, with Penny.

“I remember,” said Whitley, his voice quaking. “Let me get him.” Without shutting the door, he ran into the shadows of the bare house. Penny moved to follow him, but James caught her shoulder and shook his head.

“Let him come to us,” said James, his voice low and soothing. “And please, let the plants sleep. I’m sure this is all quite a lot to take in for him.”

Penny nodded and slowly exhaled. The glow from her freckles faded and the vines and flower retreated, until the house looked as it had before, albeit with slightly longer grass and some more flowers in the lawn.

“Thank you,” said James, patting her on the shoulder. Penny beamed at him.

Klein appeared from the shadows, wiping at his brow with a stained handkerchief before stuffing it into his pants. His face broke out into a relieved smile when he saw James, and he rushed forward, Penny sidestepping, to hug James tightly.

“It’s good to see you, old friend,” said Klein, clapping his back. James hugged him in return, before releasing him to look him over. Klein had gone bald since James had last seen him, hair clinging to the sides of his head but not daring to make the climb. He was rounder, as well, and more haggard looking.

James supposed that was to be expected, considering the circumstances.

“And you must be Penny,” said Klein. He gave an exaggerated bow to her. “Pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

Penny giggled, a hand over her mouth and freckles dancing across her face for a moment. Klein’s eyebrows shot up when he noticed. He cast a look that was half wondrous and half incredulous to James, who merely gave a slight, one-shouldered shrug and a crooked smile.

He’d explain later. Penny’s heritage, on her mother’s side, not his, was… truly something to behold, and something that took even longer to explain with any sort of coherency or sanity.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Klein,” said Penny, bobbing her head. She rocked back and forth on her heels, gaze flickering every which way as her fingers twitched in unseen patterns.

James stepped in with a few kind words. “Why don’t you help out with moving things into the house? If that’s all right with Klein, of course.” He nodded to Klein, who started, but quickly recovered.

“Of course, of course. We’re just trying to get everything into the house right now. Please, feel free to grab some boxes – but don’t strain yourself!” The last words were called passed James, as Penny had already leapt off the step and was bounding toward the back of the moving truck, which was propped open to reveal that it was almost full.

James looked back at Klein, eyebrows raised. The man had arrived hours ago with the Schnees. Surely, he’d had time to move more boxes than that.

“Unfortunately, no one feels up to heavy lifting today, my friend,” murmured Klein with a quiet sigh. “But we’ll be sure to help Penny when she runs out of little boxes.”

James’ mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Oh, don’t worry about her. She’ll be just fine.” As he spoke, he cast a look over his shoulder to find Penny commanding vines with soft, sing-song words. They wrapped themselves around boxes and furniture before marching, or rather, bobbing, back toward the house.

“Why don’t we go inside?” said James, placing a hand on Klein’s shoulder. Klein started, again, his gaze wide as he looked from Penny’s display of power to James. “Coffee?” James suggested.

Klein nodded, eyes still wide, and guided James through the small entryway and back toward the kitchen.

“How was the drive?” asked James, casting his gaze right, toward the modest living room, which was empty bar a TV box, and then to the left, down the hallway and toward the bedrooms. He wondered how the bedrooms worked here. Certainly, this place didn’t have four bedrooms. So, who was sharing?

Or had Klein done what was characteristic of himself and simply gotten a pull-out couch so as to sleep in the living room and give the three children their own rooms?

The latter seemed more likely.

“Fine, fine,” said Klein, puttering about the counters as James stepped into the kitchen. He dug out two mugs and a kettle from a box, placing them down before turning to another to dig out coffee beans. James watched, half leaning against the other set of counters, as Klein moved about, his hands obviously shaking.

“Klein,” said James, his voice soft. Klein paused. “Come here.” He opened his arms and Klein turned, hesitating for a moment before hurrying to hug James once more. James hugged him close, his cheek resting atop Klein’s head as Klein’s shoulders shook and heaved from silent sobs.

“It’s all right,” murmured James, rubbing his back. “It’s all right. You got the kids. You found a new home. Everything will be all right.”

“There’s still so much to worry about.” Klein’s fingers dug deep into James’ shirt, wringing and wrinkling the fabric. “What if I’m not a good father for them, James? They’re used to so much and now—”

“They’re used to isolation and fear,” said James, his words firmer than before. “The only love they’ve ever known was with each other and with you. Money and fame are nothing compared to that, Klein.” He leaned back at tad, looking Klein in the eye. “They’ll adjust to being regular people, but they’d never adjust to living in a world without you.”

Klein nodded, his lower lip trembling and his eyes watery and pink. He cleared his throat, stepping away from James to grab at some tissues on the counter. James averted his eyes while Klein blew his nose, giving the man some semblance of privacy.

Grief this complicated was always ugly, and anxiety, especially the kind Klein had faced in the previous weeks, only served to make it worse.

“Klein, I—” The voice abruptly stopped short, a sharp inhale ending the words. James turned to find a girl with wide, terrified eyes standing in the doorway. She came up, perhaps at most, to just below his shoulder, and her hair, which seemed about shoulder length, was haphazardly pulled back into a messy bun.

He tilted his head. So, this was Winter. James had heard Klein’s frustration with how she was treated a thousand times. He’d never actually seen her before, and found himself relaxing when he saw how comfortable she seemed in her new home, even with this surprise.

“Whitley said you were here,” said Winter, slowly. “James, right?” She held out her hand. “I remember you.”

James nodded and clasped her hand. “Not since you were, what, five, six?” he guessed.

Winter nodded, looking away as she took her hand back. “Somewhere around there,” she murmured.

“It’s good to see you, Winter.” Her head came up at his words, her eyes wide and lips parted. “Though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Is there a better circumstance available that I’m unaware of?” came another voice, this was younger and squeakier than Winter’s. That, James knew, would be Weiss.

She came into the room, barefoot and wearing a sundress, her long hair flying around her like a cape. “Mr. Ironwood!” Her gaze flew to Klein and Winter. “I mean… James.” Weiss shifted, pulled back and defensive. “It’s… good to see you again.”

“You as well,” said James, nodding to her. A silence stretched out, first a few seconds, then more, until it was broken by a spindly vine winding its way through the doorway, holding several boxes labelled ‘kitchen.’

Weiss yelped. Winter gasped, a hand flying to her mouth.

Whitley came in behind the vines, his eyes wide and an even wider grin on his face. “Klein!” he said, waving his arms. “Do you see this? Penny is so _cool!_ ” He leaped into the air, punching a fist as he did. James fought off a chuckle. Ah, to be twelve again.

“This kind of control,” murmured Winter, casting a look to James. “Penny’s your daughter, isn’t she?”

“Yup!” came Penny’s voice as she came marching into the kitchen with exaggerated arm swings. “I’ve moved almost all of the labelled boxes.” She saluted James, grinning at him. There was a soft thud, then another, then another. All gentle but there all the same. “And the furniture,” she added, eyes twinkling. Her freckles danced and glowed, her eyes sparkling with power from another world as the vines set down the boxes and receded from the kitchen and, no doubt, from the rest of the house. “I can’t really unpack though, sorry.” She turned up her hands and wrinkled her face in a sort of shrug.

Klein moved toward the doorway, staring over Penny and Whitley with wide eyes.

“Did you empty the entire truck?” he asked, looking at Penny.

Penny looked at the ceiling, her freckles settling and the glow in her skin and face fading. “Uh, mostly! Just not the unlabelled boxes. Is that okay?” Her gaze flicked toward James, dancing somewhere around his left ear.

James nodded.

“Of course, of course,” said Klein, the wonder and disbelief still in his voice. “Thank you.”

Winter spoke next. “That kind of control from a child,” she said, marvel in her voice. “How do you do that?”

Penny shrugged, tugging at her bow. “You have a lot of magic around you,” said Penny, not answering the question. Not rudeness or fear, she’d simply gotten distracted, James knew. They were working on that together.

Penny narrowed her eyes at Winter. “Not all of it is good,” she continued.

All eyes went to Winter, who wrapped her arms around her chest and shrunk into herself.

“Winter,” said Klein, his voice soft. “What’s going on?”

“I—” She stopped, looking to Penny, then to James, her eyes wide.

“It’s all right,” said James, nodding. “Trust me.”

She swallowed visibly and nodded. “I’ve been working with transfiguration spells,” she murmured. “Just to… to look normal.”

Penny frowned. “Self-transfiguration is dangerous.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t use it, especially if you’re not a doctor.”

“I _know_ , but—”

Penny moved until she stood in front of Winter. “You should go see my doctor. She’s a nice lady and she’ll give you what you need to look the way you want.” She stared up at Winter with her wide, half-human eyes. “You don’t have to hurt yourself to be happy, you know.”

Winter stared. Slowly, she lowered her arms from her chest. “I want to look like me,” she whispered.

“So do I,” said Penny. She took Winter’s hands with a kind of gentleness that didn’t seem possible. “But it takes time and patience and love. You can’t change yourself with magic and not get hurt.” James watched the emotions that flickered across Winter’s face. “You don’t have to hide anymore. We’re your new family.” Penny smiled. “Okay?”

Winter nodded. “Okay,” she said, slowly. “How do you know all this?”

Penny’s smile brightened, a sort of soft understanding in her eyes. “I’m transgender too, Winter.”

Winter let out something that sounded like a sob, crumbling to her knees. She reached out to hug Penny, who stepped forward and hugged her back.

“You’re not alone anymore,” whispered Penny. “And you’ll never have people who want you to hide ever again.”

James smiled, looking to Klein as the other man dabbed at his eyes with a tissue. Weiss hugged Whitley, who hugged her back.

He was glad he’d suggested the move to Patch.

* * *

**Scarlet David**

The not-quite-fresh air of the air conditioner pounded through the vents, chilling the entire house until Scarlet was half certain they’d freeze to death before their dads got home.

They stood, rubbing at their bare arms as they squinted at the thermostat, which read 14 degrees Celcius, a full _seven degrees_ below the usual temperature the house was set to.

It stared at them, mocking them, taunting them, with its stupid unknown password.

Fucking _Neo._ Scarlet wasn’t convinced she wasn’t trying to kill them.

“Neo!” they shouted, rubbing at their arms. The thermostat dropped another degree. Scarlet cursed under their breath and turned, stomping toward the stairs. “Neo, unlock the fucking thermostat!”

A moment later, the vents started blasting out icy mist that had Scarlet’s breath fogging in front of their face.

Oh, that was _it_. Forget all the rules about being responsible when they were left in charge of the house. Scarlet was gonna kill her for this.

“Neo!” Scarlet started running up the stairs. A split second later, something wrapped around Scarlet’s middle and hauled them back down to the first floor.

That something was the arm of their Papa, Hei Xiong Junior, who stared down at Scarlet with all the disappointment the world held. Scarlet pouted and went limp, dragging down Pops’ arm as much as possible. Dad sighed and moved from behind Pops, kicking the door shut and heading over to the thermostat. He rolled his eyes and tapped it, a glyph forming in front of his fingertips, brilliant and orangey-gold.

The cold stopped, and the heat kicked on, instantly warming Scarlet’s cold heart.

“Thanks,” they mumbled, standing up as Pops let them down. “Sorry.”

Dad waved them off, flipping his bangs out of his eyes. “Relax, lil red, you’re not in trouble. Though, I suspect we need to lock down the electronics more when we leave.” He cast a look at Pops. “Baby bear, can you check on Neo? See what she’s up to?” Pops nodded and headed upstairs, though not before casting one last disappointed look at Scarlet.

Maybe ‘kill’ had been an overstatement. But she’d been trying to _freeze_ the house in the middle of August. She would have tripped a breaker at the very least. If not all of them. It wasn’t their fault Neo liked the cold so much. Winter was coming, she could live with her fans until then.

“Come on, talk to me, kiddo,” said Dad, clapping a hand on their shoulder and leading them toward the living room. “I know Neo’s being a pain, but she’s got her reasons.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Scarlet. And they did. It wasn’t _just_ the fact that Neo didn’t handle the heat well and kind of just liked to be an agent of chaos. It was because Neo had just started hormones and her whole system was freaking out. Scarlet understood that. Hell, they’d almost been through the same thing, before they figured it all out.

“She’s still being a pain,” muttered Scarlet. “And I don’t like it.”

“Junior’ll talk to her,” said Dad, dropping onto the couch. Scarlet dropped down next to him. “And if that doesn’t work, I will too.”

Scarlet shifted to lean against Dad’s shoulder and he slipped an arm around them. “Thanks,” they murmured.

“You tested today?” asked Dad. Scarlet nodded, tapping at their arm without looking up from Dad’s shoulder. Old shorthand to mean they’d done their insulin injections already. At least, the ones they needed to.

Dad nodded. “So,” he said, drawing out the word as long as he could. “I heard from the twins that you might have finished your little pet project with illusion glyphs. Care to share?” Scarlet tilted their head to see Dad grinning at them and Scarlet flushed.

Of _course,_ the twins blabbed. Melanie and Miltia only kept secrets if they stood to benefit from them, and that obviously wasn’t the case here. But then again…

Well, they _did_ wanna show it off.

“Okay, okay,” said Scarlet, trying to hide their grin as they shrugged out of Dad’s grip and hopped up. “You twisted my arm.”

Dad hummed, laying both arms across the back of the couch. “You look so upset,” he teased, eyes twinkling.

Scarlet rolled their eyes. They turned their attention inward, toward the sigils they’d been experimenting with all summer. With their eyes closed, the sigils swam up to greet them and Scarlet focused on pulling up the glyphs they’d been working on. They called forth the image as clear as they could into their mind.

Two circles, one within the other, creating an outer ring that held four different sigils: light, reflect, touch, and illusion, one at each pole. In the inner circle, the same four sigils were repeated, but shifted one over so that reflect was beneath touch, illusion beneath light, and so forth. Another circle formed, creating a second ring that held the second set of sigils. The shapes came afterward: a cross to connect the sigils, a triangle to align the magic, and an open star, pointed toward the eastern sigils of reflect and light. With the flicks at the end of each sigil, shape, and connecting line, Scarlet directed the flow of magic.

They opened their eyes and raised their hands, etching the shape into midair in a brilliant, shimmering, red mist. They narrowed their eyes, transforming the mist into hard lines as they moved their hands, pulling their aura outward until the glyph formed completely, glowing and spinning slowly in the air.

Scarlet grinned. _Perfect._

“Wow,” breathed Dad, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Not bad, lil’ red.”

Scarlet narrowed their eyes and exhaled again, allowing their aura and the magic of the glyph to mix, until the two were so intertwined that Scarlet could taste cayenne and vanilla on their tongue, intermingling with something else that they couldn’t quite place.

With a flick of their wrist, Scarlet focused on what they wanted to form, on the image they’d worked with for weeks, and _pushed_.

The glyph spun, glowing brighter, and rushed forward, pushing through Scarlet and tugging at their back. It drew their aura outward, stretching it, pushing it, pulling it, until—

Scarlet gasped, back bowing as the magic seemed to crack it clean in two. No pain, just intensity, power. The glyph faded. The magic remained.

They opened their eyes, though they didn’t remember closing them, and saw a look that was half fear and half awe on Dad’s face.

Scarlet shifted, leaning on one foot and looking over their shoulder. Behind them, in brilliant hues of red and gold, was a massive pair of parrot wings made of hardened light that flickered and moved like shards of glass.

“It’s not perfect,” said Scarlet, voice low and cheeks burning. “I’m only on illusions so far, but they’re hard light at least, so you can touch them. My goal is to turn it into a proper transfiguration spell, once we start going into more transfiguration techniques at school.”

Their mark burned, tugging at the series of three, geometric, crimson shapes that cut sharp angles around the outside edge of their left eye. That would be Tink, tugging at their aura, wondering what was going on and bringing to life their unspoken anxieties about showing off such a cast.

“I know it would have been easier to start with a minor transfiguration, instead of starting with an illusion and trying to change it, but…” Scarlet reached up, fingers brushing their mark.

The mark ignited, glowing brightly, and from it came the crimson-hued parrot that was Scarlet’s naeta, Tink.

The parrot squawked, flying around Scarlet to check on them, and Scarlet laughed at them, waving them off. With a huff, Tink flew over to Dad and settled themself atop the couch, perched and ready for action.

“But you wanted to see the results,” said Dad, grinning. “It’s actually a pretty solid strategy.” He tipped his head to one side. “Uses about the same amount of magic, after all, and you’ll know what you’re aiming for when you make the switch.” Dad got to his feet and slowly circled Scarlet, awe clear in his voice and expression. “Do you want them to look like glass, or?”

“No,” said Scarlet. “I want them to look like Tink.” They nodded toward the smoky bird, who puffed up with pride. Scarlet and Dad both laughed, looking to one another. “Do you like it?”

Dad ruffled their hair and Scarlet squawked, not unlike Tink, reaching up to fix their hair.

“I love it,” said Dad, grinning. He looked at the wings again and let out a low whistle. “You wanna use them to fly, eventually?”

“That’s the plan,” said Scarlet. At Dad’s raised eyebrows, Scarlet ducked their head, rubbing the back of their neck. “I know, I know,” they sighed. “I could just eventually learn how to, you know, use magic to do that, but…”

“Aesthetic,” said Dad, with the kind of understanding only he could manage. He nodded, patting Scarlet’s shoulder. “Makes perfect sense to me.” He grimaced, suddenly, and rubbed the back of his neck. Scarlet watched, out of the corner of their eye, as the faded orange pumpkin that hid just below Dad’s hairline on the back of his neck ignited.

From it came Cudgel, the orange magpie. He flew around the room, once, then twice, before settling next to Tink. The two nuzzled up to one another, cooing. Dad grinned and threw an arm around Scarlet, pulling them into a hug. With a quiet sigh, Scarlet released their casted magic, allowing the wings to fall away, before leaning into the hug.

“You’re a pretty great kid, you know that?” asked Dad.

Scarlet beamed, chest warm and entire body light as air. “And you’re a pretty great dad.”

Dad grinned. “Good, now come help me with dinner,” he said, tugging Scarlet toward the kitchen.

“But, Dad,” whined Scarlet, dragging out the word. The naeta birds followed after, their chirps like laughter as Scarlet sighed and trudged along after Dad.

Well, there went relaxing for the day. Oh well.

* * *

**Lie Ren**

The gentle breeze of the early afternoon ruffled Ren’s long, loose hair, sending it tickling across his face. He didn’t move from where he sat, back against the tree in the backyard, legs crossed, hands on his knees. Instead, he kept his eyes closed and his back straight, focusing on his breathing above all else. Inhale, exhale; inhale, exhale. Slow, deep, measured breaths. Each one purposeful.

As he inhaled, he focused on the warmth of the air, on the slight bitterness that came from the crab apple tree he sat beneath, on the way the aura of the world, called qi, filled his lungs until his own aura hummed in anticipation.

As he exhaled, he focused on how each muscle in his body relaxed, on the calm that swept across his mind, and on the way the qi and his own aura intermingled within him, before the qi returned to its rightful place.

He continued, allowing his aura and the qi to bleed together, until they were one and the same.

“Ren!” Ren’s eyes opened, and he yelped, hitting the ground. When had he stopped being on the ground? At least it hadn’t been a hard or long fall. He groaned, rubbing at his hip, and looked up to see Nora running across the yard from her family’s side of the duplex their families shared, waving her arms and grinning.

“Hi, Nora,” said Ren, stretching. He pushed himself to his feet and yawned, rubbing at his eyes. A quiet sort of peace clung to him, beckoning him toward sleep.

Nora jumped up and down, waving her arms about. “Did you hear? Did you hear?” she asked, bouncing around. She grinned at him, her cheeks ruddy and her teeth flashing with her laughter. “Did you?”

Ren laughed, quiet and behind one hand. “I didn’t. Why don’t you tell me?”

“The Roc!” said Nora, grabbing one of his hands and dancing about him in a circle. He turned with her, her laughter contagious and leaving him breathless and giddy, his own cheeks burning hot. When she stopped, Ren’s head was spinning, and he shook his head to try and right it.

“The actor or the bird?” asked Ren, tilting his head to one side.

Nora rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “The _bird_ , silly! The Discovery Channel was talking about migration patterns and it came up.” She bounced again, up and down, and up and down. “It’s going to pass over Patch this year and I’m _so excited._ ” She giggled, sparks flying from her hair and crackling in midair like miniature fireworks.

She gasped, hands flying to her face. “Do you think my magic will get stronger?” she asked, eyes growing wide. “I mean, it _is_ _the_ thunderbird. That’s gotta mean something, right?” She looked up at Ren with so much excitement that he couldn’t help but feel it. The smell of ozone whispered at his nose, tickling him. He rubbed his nose and shrugged at Nora, an easy smile coming to him.

“Probably,” said Ren. He stepped forward, yawning, with one hand over his mouth, and caught Nora’s hand, tugging her back toward the house. “Why don’t we look it up?” he asked, mind already wracking over all the search possibilities. Would other mystical creatures affect other kinds of magic? Or was it a Nora specific thing, considering she was a volus? He didn’t know.

But he knew how to find out.

The two headed into Nora’s family’s half of the duplex, which was decorated with enough diplomas, awards, and children’s art that it always made Ren’s head spin. He could hear pop music playing upstairs, so that meant Neon was home, but didn’t see Neon and Nora’s dads anywhere. Of the two, he’d never been able to pick a favourite. Dr. Oobleck was smart and full of so much knowledge that Ren felt like he could fill an encyclopedia every time they spoke; and Mr. Port had a storyteller voice that always soothed Ren’s frayed nerves, despite his volume control issues.

“Neon!” Nora called up the stairs. “Do you have the iPad?” Ren winced at the volume, but the music dropped off for a moment.

“Couch!” Neon called back. The music returned. Nora skipped into the living room, Ren on her heels. She dropped onto the couch, snagging the TV remote and turning it on to some random channel.

“You see it?” asked Nora. Ren looked around and spotted the telltale pink and purple polka-dot case. He dug it out and dropped down next to Nora, who leaned over Ren’s shoulder to tap in the password. It was BUTT because it was Neon who got to set the last password.

Ren rolled his eyes at it. Nora giggled.

“Have you tested today?” asked Ren, his gaze flicking up to the old-fashioned clock on the wall. Below that clock was another one with four hands with a picture of a face on each: one for each member of the Oobleck-Port family. Two of them, Neon and Nora’s, currently rested on “home”. Dr. Oobleck and Mr. Port’s rested on “out.”

It was easily the coolest thing Ren had ever seen Dr. Oobleck make. He’d spent weeks on it, as well, showing off all the mechanisms and glyphs that went into creating such a device. Ren still hadn’t a clue how it’d all come together, but he’d been curious enough to start looking into mechanical magic over the summer. Before the school year was done, he wanted to have created his own gadget to show off to Dr. Oobleck.

He probably wouldn’t be able to think of anything impressive enough for Dr. Oobleck, but he could try. Dr. Oobleck always said that taking chances and trying your best was all you needed to do to impress anyone worth impressing.

“No,” said Nora, giving a sigh and drawing out the word. “I’ll go find my test kit.” She hopped up and darted back into the kitchen.

Ren shook his head, a wry twist tugging at his lips.

The music on the TV stopped, shifting to the ‘alert’ sound that most news stations used. Letting the iPad fall into his lap, Ren looked up, frowning as he watched the image on the TV shift from the “Beacon Ship News” logo to the news table with the three newscasters.

 _“Good afternoon, Vale,”_ said one reporter, clasping her hands together atop the table _._ Ren frowned. Must have been the news for the next island over, where the city of Vale was. He wondered why it was airing on local news, especially so early in the day.

 _“Today’s top story: dead sheep throughout rural Statera. Unfortunate accidents, or something sinister?”_ She turned toward the man on her right. _“What can you tell us about the story, Dijon?”_

 _“Well, Lisa, I can tell you that there is ample evidence that this is_ not _a series of accidents,”_ said Dijon, adjusting his papers. _“For one thing, those dead sheep have one major factor in common: their throats have been torn out.”_ He looked to the camera, one eyebrow raised. _“I don’t know how we’d call_ that _an accident, folks.”_

Ren frowned, setting the iPad to one side so he could draw his legs up to his chest and rest his chin on his knees.

“Ren, I tested and I’m only a little high,” said Nora, skipping back into the room. “Can we—” She stopped short at the news and looked to Ren, who kept staring at the TV. She shuffled over and sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered.

 _“That’s not all, Dijon,”_ said the woman to his right. _“I visited the scene of the latest in these ‘accidents’ earlier today and spoke with Vale’s chief of police, Spinel Ignus, who has been investigating the case.”_ She looked to Lisa and Dijon, who watched with rapt attention. Ren held his breath, only barely aware of Nora placing her hand over his. _“Chief Ignus, in a statement for us, said that ‘these bite marks do not match any indigenous species of Statera, and that the police currently have no leads.’”_

Dijon snorted and set down his papers, spreading his hands. _“If you ask me, it’s a fairly simple series of eliminations, Cherry.”_ He cast a flat look to the camera. _“If it doesn’t match an_ animal _in Statera, then it must be something else. Perhaps—”_

The TV shut off. Ren and Nora yelped, jumping into the air. They turned. Dr. Oobleck stood behind the couch, holding the remote. Mr. Port was right behind him, bringing in grocery bags.

“I think that’s enough of that,” said Dr. Oobleck, setting down the remote on the back of the couch. He pushed up his glasses, which had slid down enough to reveal a sharp look in his mismatched eyes.

“Do you think it’s true?” asked Nora, staring up at her dad. “Do you think there’s, ya know, monsters eating them?”

Dr. Oobleck sighed and circled the couch, sitting next to Nora. He lifted one arm and she tucked in close to him, allowing his arm to fall around her shoulders.

“There are many creatures that hide in the forests of our fair country, Nora. Simply because we don’t know, currently, what is eating the sheep doesn’t mean that it’s a monster.” He stroked her hair, his gaze flicking up to find Ren, who hugged his knees a little tighter, his gaze flickering from the dark TV to Dr. Oobleck’s steady gaze. “The news is simply indulging, once again, in fear mongering. I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”

“But what if we’re not?” asked Ren. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Patch has farmers. What if whatever it is comes for their sheep?”

A low chortle sounded behind Ren and he turned to see Mr. Port standing behind him. He reached over the couch and patted Ren’s shoulders.

“Nothing to worry about, my dear child. Patch is the safest place you could possibly be.” He beamed at Ren as he spoke, his smile half hidden by his bushy mustache. Ren nodded, casting another look at the TV.

Some part of him wondered, small and fearful as it was, if there were monsters eating the sheep. And if they were, then what brand of monster were they? The regular kind, like wolves or coyotes that shouldn’t be there? Or was it something else, something… _more?_

The lotus flower of his mark burned brightly on his cheek, the soft pink of its glow in the corner of Ren’s vision. Flower, his naeta, brushed his mind, trying to soothe his anxiety with her own calm. She helped, but only a bit, and Ren’s anxiety didn’t lessen much as he got up to help Mr. Port with baking while he waited for his own parents to come home.

* * *

**Qrow Branwen**

Music played through the radio, quiet enough to be considered background noise, but, despite that, no one in the car spoke. No one had spoken since they’d first gotten into the car, almost five hours prior. Oscar, tucked into the backseat, had been playing his Switch for most of the ride, earplugs in his ears and a look of concentration on his face. Mercury, in the front seat, had mostly stared out the window or at his phone, his gaze blank and his mouth downturned.

Qrow had tried to start a conversation maybe half a dozen times, talking about everything from the weather, to how he felt about returning to Patch, to sorting out school uniforms and schedules for the boys. Nothing had gotten much of a response, and Qrow had given up hours ago.

The only real change had been the check-ins when they got on and off the ferry to Patch, and even then, the boys hadn’t spoken up.

Not that Qrow blamed them. They’d both been through a lot, lately. Oscar still hadn’t forgiven Qrow for moving him across the country, from Piscant all the way to Statera. He hadn’t had much in the way of friends, back there, but it had been where his grandfather had passed, two years prior, which had been around the time Qrow had adopted him.

Mercury, well, Mercury had his own reasons. Qrow knew most of what he knew from Mercury’s file, not from the boy himself. He’d gotten out of juvi a month prior and been held in a group home until Qrow had agreed to foster him. It’d been a spur of the moment decision, brought on by his own hatred of seeing kids grow up unloved and isolated.

Oscar still hadn’t quite forgiven him for that, either. Bringing home a brother for him without ever mentioning it. Just showing up after work one day with Mercury.

As far as Qrow knew, they’d spoken all of twice. Once, when Mercury had asked Oscar to move so he could get a soda out of the fridge, and once, before they’d gotten in the car, when Oscar told Mercury he wanted to sit in the back, so he could nap.

That’d been it. Nothing else.

Now, as Qrow drove through the winding dirt roads of Patch, away from the docks and toward the town, he wondered if he hadn’t made an enormous mistake.

The sun was setting over Patch’s horizon, which was mostly made up by trees and the distant mountains on the mainland. Barely visible, but there all the same from the clear sky. As it set, Qrow allowed muscle memory to mostly take over, following the well-worn roads through Patch, which were mostly still cobblestone, even though it was, well, 2018. The only roads that weren’t cobblestone were the ones made of dirt and gravel. There were no paved roads in Patch, so far as Qrow knew. And none that his family – his sister, Raven, and his two in-laws, Summer and Taiyang – knew about, either. And, considering they were always running around Patch with their daughters, Qrow’s nieces, they’d know.

The cobblestone roads were smoother than he expected or remembered. And driving through Patch brought up a lot of memories. The corner store on main street was still the same, and it was boxed in by a movie rental place that looked out of the 80s and an ice cream parlour that looked out of the 50s. He’d spent plenty of afternoons there with Ruby and Yang, getting them ice cream and popcorn, then helping them pick out movies for the evening while he babysat.

God, he hadn’t seen them for more than a week at a time in almost three years. He’d first left to do trucking work, but when that’d dried up, he’d gone into fishing and ended up back East. Of course, he’d switched to something more stationary when he’d gotten Oscar, but even then…

Fuck. Oscar had never met Ruby and Yang. Well. That as a problem.

He sighed and mentally smacked himself in the head. Dumbass. How the hell had he never introduced the girls to their cousin?

Qrow shook it off. No use to dwell on that. He’d rectify that whole mess before school started, hopefully. He didn’t want the boys to be walking into school without allies. Oscar and Ruby would both be in the same grade, as would Mercury and Yang.

Hey, maybe they’d get along.

Qrow could hope for it, anyway.

He’d had a lot of reasons for coming back to Patch. Some of it was for the atmosphere, like the quiet roads that he currently drove down, which were basked in the long shadows and kaleidoscope of oranges, pinks, and yellows that made up the contrasting light and shadow of sunset.

Some of it was for the magic, which Oscar and Mercury had never really been exposed to. Piscant had mermaids, sure, and sirens besides. But most of the magic there was water and wind based, all big displays for calming the ocean and her temper. A lot of fishermen didn’t even release their naeta regularly, seeing as most naeta weren’t suited to their jobs or the docks.

Besides, most of them had been rather private about their naeta. As if it were some great social blunder to have them run around in public.

It’d been a strange culture, for certain, and one that Qrow hadn’t been terribly fond of. But he hadn’t been able to come back until now, and, in truth, he hadn’t known how welcome he’d be. He’d never truly lived in Patch. Raven, Summer, and Taiyang had settled there when Yang was a baby and Summer was pregnant. Qrow had flitted in and out of their lives as he found work and moved around to be close to it. He’d sent money back whenever he could, largely because he didn’t need much of his own.

So, he’d only lived in Patch for a few weeks or months at the time, crashing in the extra bedroom in the house before Yang and Ruby were old enough to want their own rooms, then on the couch once they were.

Now, he’d bought a house (well, Raven had, but he’d signed the papers and it was his, she’d just done all the work), and was finally settling down. Hopefully, this time, for good.

The last, and largest, reason he wanted to go back to Patch, and the reason he’d begged Oscar and Mercury’s social workers to allow the move, was for his family. For Ruby and Yang, for Taiyang and Summer, and, most of all, for Raven.

He’d missed Raven enough over the last few years for it to create a semi-permanent _ache_ his chest. Now, he was finally back, settling down, and didn’t have to leave again. He never had to feel that ache from being away from his twin again.

His mark, a gear with a feather curled around it, grew warm at the thought. Huginn had missed Muninn just as Qrow had missed Raven.

The thought of his naeta reminded him that he’d yet to see Mercury’s. He knew, from Mercury’s file, that his mark hadn’t been lost with his legs, but Qrow didn’t know where it was, nor what it was. He hadn’t any idea what Mercury’s naeta would be, either.

Another reminder at how little he knew about the boy who sat next to him, the boy who was supposed to be his second son.

He knew Oscar’s mark, which mostly looked like an avocado and had about the same colour scheme in a gradient. At Oscar’s age, it’d probably change multiple times before it settled on a specific shape. The location wouldn’t change though – it was on the palm of his right hand, dead centre.

His naeta might change as well, as he grew older, but, for now, it was a pygmy owl in shades of brown and white, maybe a pacific pygmy, named Toto. He was a shy naeta, rarely coming out, but at least Qrow knew what he was.

It felt wrong, being that distant from Mercury’s naeta. Toto and Huginn weren’t close, not yet, but at least they got along. Someday, he hoped they’d be as close as Muninn was to Crescent and Ember. But he wasn’t sure if that’d ever happen. Not with everything else. Not with the age Oscar had been when Qrow had adopted him.

And god, that wasn’t even getting into the odds of Huginn and Mercury’s naeta ever being any kind of close.

Qrow turned the last few corners toward the house, half lost in thought as he drove. The cobblestone roads were still far smoother than they should have been, and he suspected there was some magic behind it.

In the light of the setting sun, the house looked, to Qrow, like a kind of sanctuary.

It was a simple house. Two-storeys, off-white siding, pale blue shutters, a window in the attic that was dusty enough on the inside he could see it even in this light. The porch was small, but in good repair, and he knew there was a fenced-in backyard around the back.

It was perfect. And it was home.

Or, at least, it would be, hopefully, with time.

“Huh,” said Mercury, the first words spoken in hours. “So, this is it?” He stuffed his phone into the pocket of his hoodie. Oscar looked up from the back seat, his Switch dropping into his lap.

“It looks nice,” said Oscar, his gaze flicking from the house to Qrow. Qrow smiled at him, then at Mercury, who rolled his eyes.

Qrow pulled into the driveway, just behind the moving truck that Raven had dropped off earlier that day with all their worldly possessions. It didn’t even take up the whole driveway.

Then, as if struck by lightning, Qrow realized something he probably should have realized way back in Piscant. He had moved, cross country, after selling most of his furniture. Furniture he’d bought for a two-bedroom, five hundred square foot apartment.

Which he no longer had. For his three-bedroom, two-storey, over two thousand square foot house.

Which meant, in short, that he had _nothing_ to put in this house.

Fuck.

“So, what are we sleeping on?” asked Mercury, raising both eyebrows.

Qrow winced. “I’ll… get the air mattresses.”

Mercury snorted and opened the door to the car. “Perfect,” he muttered, sliding out of the car and slamming the door behind him. Qrow and Oscar both winced.

“You tried,” said Oscar. “It’s okay, we’ll get beds tomorrow.”

Qrow nodded, unable to shake the frustration he had with himself.

“Yeah,” said Qrow, rubbing at his collarbone. His mark grew warmer by the moment. Huginn was grumpy with him as well. “Why don’t you scope the place out? I’ll bring everything in.”

Oscar nodded and slid out of the car, leaving his Switch behind.

Once his door closed and both boys were heading into the house – small town and all that; Raven had left it unlocked for them, the keys in the kitchen – Qrow took a moment to relax. He breathed deeply, letting his head rest on the steering wheel.

Step one, done.

Now, onward to the next billion or so.

With a self-deprecating sigh, Qrow climbed out of the car and headed for the house. It wouldn’t be long before the boys would want to head to bed. He needed to make sure they had _something_ to sleep on, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions, concerns, extra kudos, and all other sorts of feedback are always welcome. Feel free to let me know how you feel, what you thought, and what you want to see next. Favourite moments, favourite lines, favourite stories, and favourite characters. Everything makes my day!
> 
> [Image Ref for OwlCat](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b7/8c/fe/b78cfe8336c0c87fcccea7fe9ae2f411.jpg)  
> [Image Ref for baby griffins](https://66.media.tumblr.com/1d3a11a58827016ef7ccfb797f4135cc/tumblr_pef1n9olBt1r1d9vvo1_1280.png)
> 
>  **New Vocabulary in this Chapter:**  
>  _naeta:_ (n.) [nay-tah] the physical manifestation of a person's subconscious; a creature created from aura directly connected to its owner; a manifestation of a person's idealized self.
> 
>  _volus:_ (n.) [voh-luh] a person, chosen at birth by [redacted] to fight [redacted] and choose those who are worthy of [redacted]; highly dangerous individuals of [redacted]; the chosen [redacted]
> 
>  _focus:_ (n.) [foh-kuss] an object used to channel magic; a tool for using magic. plural: foci.
> 
>  
> 
> **For locations, creatures, past vocabulary, and more, check out the[Eight Ways to Sunday Encyclopedia on my Tumblr!](http://anipendragon.tumblr.com/ewts) WARNING: this is updated with each chapter and is therefore filled with spoilers if you are not caught up.**
> 
>  
> 
>  **Ramblings**  
>  This is, contrary to first impressions, quite a departure from my usual fare in terms of genre and writing. But I've wanted to try something different for a while, and wanted a way to splash back into RWBY longfic with something completely and uniquely my own. While it pulls on many parts of pop culture (and if you want to guess at all the connections and references, feel free to hit me up on Tumblr), it also pulls on systems that are completely my own and have been developed over the last few years for other projects.
> 
> So, if it's so different, why write it? Honestly, because I wanted to. I started trying to write a RWBY longfic again back near the end of July and couldn't get anywhere with it. I wrote and rewrote, edited and erased, and eventually ended up staring at a blank document again. So, what did I do to get this? I honestly have no clue. I woke up one morning, possessed, and wrote the first 8,300 words of this chapter in the course of less than a day. I wrote up the summaries (fic and chapter), formatted and wrote the notes, added the literal hundreds of tags (good lord, it was hell), and set to work on finishing and polishing this first chapter.
> 
> For the first time in a long time, I was taking notes as I wrote and proofread, marking down changes and going back to make edits to fix inconsistencies that came from having no plan, no concept, no _nothing_ except for hands that wouldn't stop and a light in my mind that allowed me to see to the end of the current sentence. And that was how I wrote, for hours, for days, trying to see just where it would lead me.
> 
> And here I am, taking notes, marking down details, ensuring that all my build up, all my foreshadowing, all my ideas, get to come into play. All because, one morning, inspiration struck, and now, here I am.
> 
> Can't say I'm at all disappointed. Mostly, I just wanna see how far this rabbit hole goes, and what parts of it even I haven't reached quite yet.


	2. Whispers of the Willows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all magic is mystical or otherworldly, some can be as simple as a friendly gesture, a clever pun, or more devious, like sleight of hand. But all it takes to reveal the masquerade is one misplaced word, one slip of the tongue. One wrong move, even minuscule, can ruin any magic: real or otherwise.
> 
> In the city, these types of magic are often intertwined, but in small towns, like that of Patch, they are distinct to most, for kindness and card tricks are nothing to glyphs.
> 
> But if one were to combine them so tightly than you could not tell either apart, that you could not assess a threat, that you could not know what you were dealing with, or how to react, then what would you call them?
> 
> The answer is simple.
> 
> Do you know what it is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that summaries are important!
> 
> Thank you so much for the responses to the last chapter!!! I'm so glad you all liked it. I'm really excited to show this off too!
> 
> This chapter was originally going to be the full 12k of the last one, but I cut it in half because I need to rework some stuff in the back half of the chapter, so I hope everyone's okay with just a 6k chapter. I'll go through for more typo checks in a bit, but I really wanted to show this off!

**Emerald Sustrai**

With deft fingers, Emerald shuffled and reshuffled the deck of cards. Their green and black backs flashing with each twitch of her fingers. She twirled them around, separating the deck in two before fanning them out and spinning them back together.

It was rhythmic, simple. A soothing motion that she’d long become accustomed to. Her hands split the deck in half and rotated the cards around. With another flick, she pulled one card from the left half of the deck. The card twirled in midair, landing, on one corner, on top of the left half of the deck, tucked in just far enough to hold.

Emerald grinned and loosened her hold on the deck in her left hand, letting the card slip back in with the rest. Her excitement tickled the mark that wound around her left bicep, and, for just a moment, Cleo, her naeta, stirred. In her mind’s eye, Emerald could almost see her. The aspic viper had slept long before she did, due to the unseasonal cold last night, and still refused to awaken.

Then, just as quickly as Cleo stirred, she was asleep again, leaving Emerald to her cards.

“You know,” came the low, rumbling voice of her father as he came down the hallway and into the living room, “for having access to _real_ magic, you certainly prefer the mundane version of it.”

Emerald rolled her eyes and twisted the decks back together, fanning the cards out into a circle. “So?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. She flipped her bangs out of her face, scowling at them. Almost time for a haircut, then. “Anyone can spin up a glyph. Takes real skill to pull off sleight of hand and not have anyone notice the difference.”

Her dad folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head to one side. He was already dressed for work, in his stupid plaid that he’d covered with an even dumber vest. At least he wasn’t wearing his hat yet. The orange always gave Emerald a headache.

“A regular con artist,” he said, chuckling. Emerald winked. He reached up and pulled his fingers through his hair. Unlike Emerald, his hair was a natural colour, dark brown as opposed to mint green. “Have you seen your brother?”

Emerald rolled her eyes and flicked a card into the air. As it floated up, she twirled her fingers and called forth her aura, focusing it through the ring she wore on her left middle finger. It warmed, though only slightly, as she drew a glyph in mid-air. Circle, sigil, sigil, circle, directional, connector, shape.

It ignited, a colour somewhere between emerald and mint, just above her ring, and the card in midair paused, holding steady a few feet above her hand.

“He’s out back, cutting wood,” she said. She twirled her hand, one glyph shifting to another, the space behind her eyes warming from the magic that flowed through her. The card twirled around and around, then dropped back into her hand. “And it’s only a con if you’re taking something from people.” She looked over at her dad, holding the singular card between two fingers. She turned it around, so its face was to him.

Queen of diamonds.

“Was this your card?” she asked, unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

Her dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure,” he said. “It probably would have been, if you’d had me take one, anyway.” His golden eyes twinkled, his smile showing in them.

Emerald grinned and slipped the card back into the deck. “You going to Vale today?”

He nodded, grabbing his keys from the hook on the wall. “There’s some construction going on that I need to oversee, plus we’re doing demolition at the old gym tonight.” He adjusted his vest, blowing a stray hair from his face. “Just a second.”

He stepped out of the room and into the kitchen, shouting out the open window.

“Sage! C’mere!” He reappeared with a huff, shaking his head. “He’s chopping wood again.”

Emerald raised an eyebrow. “Of course he is.” She huffed as well.

A moment later, Sage came into the room, already sweat-coated and visibly sticky from tree sap. “What’s up?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Why are you even cutting wood?” asked Emerald, rolling her eyes. She flipped her bangs out of her face again, then flicked a card into midair, catching it between two knuckles. “We have electricity.”

“Offerings, mostly,” said Sage. He tugged his fingers back through his hair, which wasn’t nearly as cool a shade of green as Emerald’s. Plus, his wasn’t all the way down to the root yet, still showing the grey-black he’d had before.

Even though Emerald wasn’t quite sixteen, her hair had already completely changed colour. Probably her favourite part of sixteenth birthdays, honestly, was finding out if any part of you was going to change colour or change at all. Some people got mismatched eyes, some people got different hair, some people got new magic marks, though not naeta marks.

Emerald thought the hair change was pretty fantastic, especially since it was almost definitely permanent. Though she wished her eyes had gone too. Brown was such a _dull_ eye colour. She’d almost hoped they’d go gold, like Dad’s.

But then, he did say that he’d been born with them. Which was weird. She’d never seen anyone else with gold eyes, nor did she have any idea _why_ they were gold. It didn’t seem normal.

“Offerings,” echoed Dad. “As far as I’m aware, you haven’t wronged any fae.”

Sage shrugged, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “No,” he agreed, his ears darkening in that way that meant he was blushing. “But I wanted to keep on their good sides, especially when it comes to herbology. There’s a lot of things I can only get on the veil borders.”

Dad narrowed his eyes, a low growl entering his voice. “Thought I told you to stop going into those parts of the woods.”

Sage cleared his throat. “I should… get going. I’ve got plans… with Scarlet… yeah.”

Emerald grinned, trying to hide it between a hand. She twisted around on the couch, leaning against the back with her arms folded across the top and her chin on her hands.

“Plans, huh?” She kept grinning, struggling not to giggle. “What sort of plans?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Sage, whose ears kept turning darker and darker.

“Emmie…” He ducked his head, but Emerald wasn’t about to let up. She knew that Sage wanted to tell Dad. She knew he _needed_ to tell Dad before he left, or it’d ruin his whole day. Besides, it wasn’t like Dad would care. Sage was just being dumb. And he’d always told Emerald to call him out when he was being a fucking moron. Which he was being. Right now.

“Sagie.” Her voice was sing-song and half mocking, her head tipping back and forth with the syllables. “Come on, you know he’ll be fine with it.” She gave him a flat look. “We’re Rainarts. We don’t fucking hide, especially not from our own.”

Dad looked at Sage, frowning. “You can tell me, but if you don’t want to, I won’t make you.”

Sage looked from Dad, to Emerald, and back again. He sighed, shoulders slumping. “No, no, it’s fine,” he said. He tugged his fingers back through his hair. “Okay. So, uh. I’m actually, um, going out on a date? With Scarlet?” He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. He ducked his head. “It’s our first date,” he mumbled.

Dad smiled and rested a hand on Sage’s shoulder. “Would you like some extra cash for it?” he asked. “Or a ride?”

Sage’s eyes went wide. He stared up at Dad, though the difference wasn’t all that big anymore. Maybe a couple inches. Both of them were tall as shit and Emerald was way down in regular height zone. Dumbass tall boys.

“Uh..”

“You remember that I’m bi, right?” asked Dad, a slow grin spreading over his face. Disbelief and amusement, mostly. A bit of a chuckle in his voice. “Besides, Scarlet is a good kid.” He looked at Emerald. “Though you should have let him tell me.”

Emerald shrugged. “He told me to call him out.” She scoffed and flopped forward onto the couch, leaning all her weight on it. “No harm.”

Dad shook his head. “This time,” he agreed, but his tone said only just. “Now, Sage, did you need anything? Cash? Ride?” A pause and a wry twist of his lips. “Condoms?”

Sage choked, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Dad!” His voice cracked higher than Emerald’s ever had and she cackled, flopping back onto the couch cushions. “No! I… no. This is. I mean. I’m not. We’re not.” Emerald’s shoulders shook from how hard she laughed. Her stomach hurt. Her eyes watered.

“I fucking love you, Dad,” said Emerald, grinning. She sat back up and turned her grin to Sage. “Not getting laid tonight, little brother?”

He narrowed his eyes, his embarrassment evidently forgotten. “By ten minutes, old hag.”

Emerald gave a scandalized gasp and threw a hand over her heart. “Blasphemy! I look better than you ever will.” She hopped over the couch and leaned up on her toes to peck Dad on the cheek. “I’m gonna go hang out with the twins, today. If Scarlet isn’t gonna be home, we can steal the living room TV for Food Network Star.”

With a groan, Sage rolled his eyes. “You’re so _old_. Food Network, seriously?”

She leaned over and flicked Sage on the nose. He squeaked.

“Dude!” he protested.

Emerald grinned. “Better than Top Model.”

“I only watch that ‘cause of Scarlet!”

“Uh-huh.” Emerald rolled her eyes and grabbed the money that Dad had pulled out of his wallet. “Thanks Daddy.” She blew a mocking kiss to Sage and winked. “Bye, baby bro.” Before Sage could protest, she grabbed her flip flops off the couch and headed for the door. “Don’t stay out too late!”

“That goes for you too!” Dad called back. Sage was still squeaking and squawking inside, obviously flustered.

Emerald chuckled and slipped on her flip flops, heading down the driveway and toward the Xiong-Torchwick house. She had plans for that big screen, and she was gonna make sure they all came to fruition today.

* * *

**Jaune Arc**

The sun had already risen by the time Jaune peeled himself out of bed. He rubbed at his eyes, squinting from the sunlight streaming through his bare window. As his room came into focus, so did the half a dozen boxes stacked up in one corner of his room. His dresser was pressed against one wall, his bed pressed again another, and that left a decent space to do whatever he wanted to do. Which… he had no idea what that would be yet.

Faintly, he could hear the sound of people moving around in the house. That probably meant Amber and Aunt Glynda were up. He winced. Aunt Glynda might be mad he’d slept in, but how was he supposed to know when to get up?

There were a ton of rules and none of them were written down or explained. He was just supposed to pick them up as he went and hope it worked out. It hadn’t yet. At least, not really.

Crocea, his naeta, chittered in his ear, still contained within his mark, at the bottom of his sternum. The pair of crescent moons, typically white-gold in colour, burned hot beneath his pyjamas. He sighed, pressing the flat of his palm into the space, and winced as Crocea chittered louder.

The white-gold smoke of his aura wisped out from between the buttons of his pyjama shirt, forming up, on his bed, into the small, lop-eared bunny that was Crocea.

He hopped into Jaune’s lap, nuzzling in close. Jaune hugged him, burying his face into the space between Crocea’ ears.

“Missed you, buddy,” he mumbled. He hadn’t been able to let Crocea out in days, not with all the travelling, airplanes, car rides, and the like. Aunt Glynda’s naeta, a purple snow leopard named Slipper, hadn’t been out, either, so Jaune hadn’t wanted to chance his luck. But he’d missed the little bunny, missed holding him close and letting him sleep on Jaune’s stomach.

But now they were finally moved into the house in Patch, and that meant Jaune could finally have Crocea out all the time. It was nice, to have that part of him back to where he belonged.

“What do you think, boy?” He nuzzled deeper into Crocea’s fur. “Should we head downstairs and get some food?”

Crocea hopped up onto his shoulder and Jaune smiled, tilting his head to let him nuzzle against his cheek.

His slippers were on the floor next to his bed, one of the few things he’d unpacked the night before. He slipped them on and shuffled out of the room, Crocea on his shoulder and his hair ruffled and sticking up in all directions.

The walls were bare, the house echoing, and boxes were stacked up in corners. The only room unpacked properly was the upstairs bathroom, and that was only because Aunt Glynda had insisted on having a presentable bathroom before they went to sleep last night.

Downstairs, Amber dug through boxes in the living room. The couch was pushed into roughly the right position, with the coffee table covered in boxes, most of them still sealed.

She looked up when Jaune came into the room, beaming at him. Her hair was held back with a headband and her own naeta, an amber-coloured hedgehog named Blue, was fast asleep on the back of the couch, occasionally giving little squeaks in her sleep.

“Morning, Jaune.” Amber got to her feet and yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “What’s up?”

He shrugged, wrapping his arms around himself. “Nothing. You seen Aunt Glynda?”

Amber shook her head. “Nah, haven’t seen Mom. Pretty sure she went out, actually, before we got up. Car’s not in the garage.”

Jaune nodded. “Thanks.” He cast a glance over his shoulder, toward the mess of boxes and packaging that was the kitchen, and sighed. “We’ve got a lot of work to do before school starts.”

Amber laughed. “We’ve got time.” She leaned over the couch and patted Blue on the head. She gave a little squeak and shook herself awake, before climbing up Amber’s on and settling on her shoulder, a mirror to Jaune and Corcea. “Four whole days of it.”

“I guess.” Jaune hugged himself, squeezing tight. “Just… it’s all a lot to take in, ya know?” He swallowed against the lump in his throat, then cleared it. Everything seemed to swim up before him, spreading out to showcase the chaos his life had become. “A couple weeks ago I had the biggest family of anyone I knew, and now…”

Amber crossed the room and pulled Jaune into a hug, cooing at him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and wrapped his arms around her middle, sniffling. One of her hands stroked his hair and the other was wrapped around his shoulders.

“I know, honey, I know,” said Amber. She dropped a kiss to the top of his head and rested her cheek on the spot. “But you’ve got a new family, now.”

Jaune let out a shaky breath, Blue and Corcea both nuzzling against him.

“You lost a lost of family too.” His words were muffled by her shirt, which was quickly soaking through from tears and snot. Ugh. He’d have to do her laundry to make it up to her. “They were yours too.”

Amber snorted. She pulled her head from Jaune’s and leaned back enough to lift his head by taking it in both hands. “Jaune Miles Arc.” Her voice was as firm and serious as Jaune had ever heard it. The warmth of her hands seeped into his flushed and damp cheeks. “Any family willing to treat someone so terribly over their gender is no family of mine.” She gave him a flat look. “Seeing you happy and yourself is worthy any loss.”

Jaune sniffled and reached up to wipe his nose on his sleeve. Amber wrinkled her nose. Jaune grimaced and stepped back from her, still wiping his nose. Amber made an even worse face and Jaune found himself giggling between his drying tears.

“Since when is my middle name Miles?” he asked, between giggles.

Amber grinned, crooked and sly. “Well, you didn’t exactly pick a new one, so I thought ‘Miles’ might be a good stand-in.” She raised both eyebrows. “Like it?”

Jaune nodded. “Yeah, actually,” he said, letting out a quiet laugh. “Jaune Miles Arc.” He smiled at her, teeth showing, and rubbed the back of his neck. His fingers grazed his hair, still shaggy and uneven from his haphazard attempt at cutting it off, two weeks prior. “I think I’ll keep it.”

“Good.” Amber reached up and tugged her own fingers through his hair. “What do you say we get that fixed this week? I hear the hair place here is pretty cool.”

A sharp stab of panic shot through Jaune’s chest.

“You mean, out there? In public?” His voice cracked high. He winced. There hadn’t been time to practice keeping his voice low, masculine, before now. But he needed it to be perfect _now_ , not months or years from now. “Are you sure?”

Amber ruffled his hair before letting her hand drop back to her side. Blue made the leap from Amber’s shoulder to atop Jaune’s head. Crocea stood and nuzzled against her, and the amber and white-gold smokes blurred together around Jaune in a sort of veil of comfort and warmth. He took a deep breath and felt Blue’s presence in his chest as he inhaled her smoke.

On the exhale, her presence disappeared, leaving him with only her not-quite-there weight on his head.

“No one is going to look twice at you, little brother,” said Amber, putting her hands on his shoulders. Jaune sucked in a sharp breath. _Little brother._

Little brother.

Was he? Would Aunt Glynda allow it?

“Aunt Glynda chose this place for a couple of reasons,” said Amber. She punched him lightly in the shoulder, just hard enough for him to feel her knuckles graze his sleeve. “That was one of them.”

Another lump formed in Jaune’s throat. He swallowed around it and felt it stick. A grimace etched into his face as he tried to swallow again. It mostly worked, that time.

“Yeah, I guess.” He rubbed the shoulder Amber had punched with one hand, even if he couldn’t feel anything from it. “I don’t wanna do anything to upset her though. She’s already, ya know, wrecked her whole life for me.”

The look Amber gave him could have levelled a mountain, it was so flat.

“Jaune.” Her tone had him imagining the alps, levelled off like someone had taken a big knife to them in one fell swoop. “Mom didn’t ruin her life for you. She wanted to move and she didn’t wanna be around Aun—” She grimaced and corrected herself, “ _her_ and all your ex-sisters.” She wrinkled her nose in what he presumed was distaste. “You gave her a good reason to pack up.” She bumped shoulders with him. “Besides, I hear she’s got an ex in town that she wanted to reconnect with.”

Jaune wrinkled his own nose at that. Aunt Glynda and a relationship? She hadn’t dated as long as he could remember.

Amber scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Not for that.” She stepped back and flopped onto the couch. Crocea leapt from Jaune’s shoulder and landed on her stomach. Amber laughed and scratched between his ears, grinning in Jaune’s direction. “She just wants a friend around here, ya know? Apparently, their relationship ended pretty amiably.” Her fingertips ignited, a small glyph appearing in the same amber colour as Blue. Her phone, resting on the mantle of the gas fireplace, across the living room, picked up the same glow. It shot into Amber’s hand.

“Show off,” mumbled Jaune, and not just because he still couldn’t manage something that simple. He circled the couch and knocked Amber’s legs out of the way before dropping down onto the cushions.

“Pretty sure the dude’s got kids too, one of ‘em’s your age.” She looked up from her phone and furrowed his brow at him. “Faunus, I think.”

Jaune blinked. “Is he?” he asked. “I mean, the ex? The dad?” He winced. Stupid wording and ambiguous pronouns.

“Nah, regular dude,” said Amber, returning her gaze to her phone. Her fingers rapid tapped on the screen, though Jaune had no idea what she could be doing. All he really used his phone for was Pokémon Go, seeing as he didn’t really have any friends and his only contacts were Amber and Aunt Glynda, now. “Kid’s prolly adopted.”

Jaune nodded and drew his legs up onto the couch, hugging them so he could rest his chin on his knees. The gas fireplace was off, and he could see his reflection in the darkened glass. The bruises under his eyes, the fading cut on his left cheek, and the uneven bangs that hung into his eyes. He blew them out of the way, looking away from his reflection.

Not today.

“All right let’s get you a haircut. Place can’t be far, this place is the size of a couple blocks back east.” Amber hopped to her feet, tossing her phone onto the couch. Blue leaped onto her arm, Crocea climbed onto Jaune’s knees so he had to carry the bunny when he stood. “Come on, Jaune. We’re gonna make you look badass.” She struck off toward the stairs,

“I’d settle for looking like a boy,” he confessed, cheeks burning as he followed her.

Amber cast a look over his shoulder. “That’s not gonna be hard,” she said, shrugging. “So, we gotta aim high to actually have something to do today, ya know?” She turned back around and headed up the stairs.

Jaune followed behind her, his chest and cheeks warm and a smile on his face.

Yeah, maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

**Velvet Scarlatina**

Patch didn’t have a mall. It had a corner store, a bakery, a thrift shop, and a used clothing store, but it didn’t have a mall. There weren’t enough people, nor was there enough space. So, if you really wanted to wander around crowded halls full of people with shopping bags, eat bad, overpriced food that would probably drive you to an early heart attack, you had to go to Vale, the next island over.

It wasn’t as if Velvet _hated_ malls, but they certainly weren’t her favourite thing in the world. The only reason she’d gone today was because Fox had wanted to go, and because Yatsu and Coco had agreed to meet them there.

So, Velvet had woken up before noon, made herself presentable, and even fluffed up her bunny ears before she’d headed out to meet Fox and take the pedestrian path up onto the ferry.

Now, wandering the halls of the Vale Island Mall, Velvet found herself wondering why she’d even bothered. It was _loud_ and _smelly_ and people kept looking at her, with her big, fluffy ears, her oversized sweater, and her polka dot leggings – and yes, it was August, and yes, she was _cold_ – and at Fox, with the straps of his binder visible under his tank top, his white eyes uncovered and matching his white cane as he tap-tapped his way through the mall.

They stared, some whispered, and Velvet scowled, never saying a word. Jerks, she thought, with more than a touch of bitterness. Just… jerks.

“Any sign of Yatsu or Coco?” asked Fox. His words were half to Velvet and half to his naeta, a smoky umber fennec fox named Dair. The naeta lifted his head and gave a little chirruping nose. “I’ll take that as a no,” he said, chuckling.

Velvet shook her head. Her own naeta, a cottontail with tall ears, just like hers, huffed from her position, nestled between Velvet’s ears. She was cinnamon smoke and smelled faintly of pumpkin.

“Anything yet, Nana?” Velvet asked the rabbit. Nana huffed again, before settling back in for her nap. She liked malls about as much as Velvet did. “Sorry, Fox. Seems we’re on our own today.”

He chuckled, swinging his cane wide and catching a nearby trashcan. The two moved around it, one after the other. “We’ll be fine. Not like these two are particularly useful anyway, huh, Dair?” He reached up with his spare hand to scratch Dair’s nose. The fox cooed, ears twisting forward a bit, but didn’t move.

Nana chattered and squealed, obviously displeased. Velvet sighed and reached up, pulling Nana from atop her head and holding her in her arms.

“Don’t you act offended, you haven’t done anything useful all week,” said Velvet, stroking Nana’s head. “Silly bunny.” Nana huffed and snuggled into Velvet’s arms without further protest.

“She seems off put.” Fox’s words were laced with a chuckle. Velvet shook her head, rolling her eyes at the antics of her naeta. Such a silly bunny.

She looked up to see Coco and Yatsu heading toward them, Coco with a purse slung over one shoulder and Yatsu with bags on his arms that were probably Coco’s.

“Hey guys!” called Velvet, waving to them with Nana tucked into the crook of one arm. Coco’s naeta, a caramel coloured, sleek and regal cheetah named Luxe, prowled next to her, head held high and eyes cool as she surveyed the mall. In contrast, Yatsu’s own naeta, a big, olive green, Newfie dog named Fuku, happily trotted along next to Yatsu, tongue lolling and ears perking at every noise.

“Found them?” guessed Fox, a teasing tone in is voice. He raised his hand to wave, regardless, and managed to mostly wave in the right direction. “Took them long enough.”

Velvet snorted. “Considering Yatsu is carrying half a dozen bags, I suspect they were here long before we were.” Her drawl grew thicker as she spoke, until the dry tone was completely coated in the lilting accent of southern Menagerie. “Though, I do wonder how Coco managed to shop so much in the hour the mall has been open.”

“Have you met Coco?” asked Fox.

He tilted his head so that Dair could raise his own. The fox leapt from Fox’s shoulder as Coco and Yatsu drew near, landing on Fuku’s head. The dog ‘boof’ed at him, and Fuku chattered in response. Nana, still in Velvet’s arm, yawned and stretched, before making the leap onto Luxe’s back.

“Morning, Fox, Velvet,” said Coco, sliding her sunglasses down to wink at them both. They immediately went back into position with a grimace. The fluorescents were probably too bright for her.

Fox folded his arms across his chest. “I thought we were shopping _together_ , Coco.” His words were firm and a little accusatory, despite the light tone behind them.

“And how do you know I’ve been shopping?” asked Coco, jutting her chin out in response. “You can’t see anything.”

Fox blew at his bangs. “Right, because the noise Yatsu is making is definitely just from his clothes.”

Coco looked over her shoulder to Yatsu, who was fiddling with one of the bags. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, before turning her attention back to Fox.

“All right, fine, we went shopping. So, what? Who says we didn’t get anything for you?”

“Did you?” Fox’s eyebrows went up and he cocked his head to one side. When Coco hesitated, his expression twisted to one of wry amusement. “Thought so.”

Coco chewed on the inside of her cheek, the motion wiggling side of her glasses. “Look,” she said, giving a little huff. “We can go _get_ you something.” She flipped her bangs out of her face and Velvet noticed the barest hint of roots visible from the shift of her beret. Grey and white, almost see-through. “It’s not like we’re in a rush.”

A few people slowed and watched the four for a moment, before a flat look from Yatsu and an angrier one from Fuku sent them hurrying onward. Velvet winced, trying not to think about it. Ever since last week’s news report about the faunus extremist group, the White Fang, blowing up a cargo ship over the Pacific Ocean, she’d been getting a lot of looks whenever she left Patch.

She thought it might be easier to simply _not_ leave Patch, but that left few opportunities to get back to school supplies and spend time with Coco, who preferred to leave the island whenever she could.

Fuku bumped into her hip and tilted his head into her hand. Velvet let out a shaky breath, bringing herself back to the present, and to the three friends that all watched her with concern.

Well, Dair watched her, anyway. Fox was absently scratching Nana’s head, right between her ears, his head tilted in her direction and a tight frown on his face.

“Velvet.” Coco’s voice was low, but audible, despite the din of the mall. “Are people seriously still giving you a hard time?”

Velvet swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat. “It was just a week ago,” she mumbled, ears folding down to press against the sides of her head and graze her hair. She hugged one arm with the other. “People died, Coco.”

“You had nothing to do with that!” Her voice rose, sharp and frustrated in the wide halls. People looked. Luxe’s fur stood on end across her neck and back, teeth bared and a snarl echoing Coco’s words.

“Fucking faunus,” muttered a man as he turned to sneer at them.

Velvet yelped, stepping back. Yatsu stepped in front of her. Luxe darted in front of the man and snarled.

“You have a problem with her, you have a problem with us,” said Yatsu, his voice low and booming. People fell silent around them. Many slowed or stopped to watch. Velvet swallowed hard; her mark, a bunny paw print that wrapped around her left pinkie finger, ignited cinnamon and Nana vanished in cinnamon smoke, hidden within the safe walls of Velvet’s heart.

Fox put a hand on her shoulder. Dair vanished as well, umber and rust mingling on her eyes and tongue.

The man sneered at them, though he wasn’t as tall as Yatsu, and stepped forward. Fuku stepped forward, both naeta now shoulder to shoulder and snarling.

“Your call,” murmured Fox in Velvet’s ear. Velvet stared at the scene before her, two naeta and two best friends on one side, and a man with a growing crowd of spectators on the other. A few of the stopped people shifted, as if to come forward. Naeta in all colours lingered on the edges of her vision, on shoulders and in arms, in bags and at their owner’s sides.

She swallowed hard. “Let’s just go,” she mumbled. No one moved. “ _Please_ , Yatsu. Not today.”

He stepped back. The man’s naeta erupted from his shirt sleeve. Sickly green boar half as tall as Yatsu. Velvet sucked in a breath as it shoved at Luxe and Fuku. The man grinned.

Coco sneered. “Luxe—"

“Coco—”

“—sic ‘em.”

“No!”

Luxe lunged. So did the boar. Luxe was faster. She clamped hard onto the boar’s throat and leapt onto his back. The boar bellowed, tried to toss her off. Luxe held firm. Another heave from the boar and she fell, rolling. On her feet a moment later, fur raising and teeth bared. Fuku howled and leapt for the boar.

“Wait!” shouted Velvet. But no one heard her. The screams of the crowd mixed with the screamed of the naeta. Fox’s hands were over his ears, but he shouted alongside Coco and Yatsu. Everything erupted around her. Explosions of violence and noise that refused to stop bursting.

“Stop, please.” Her voice cracked throat and Velvet stumbled back from it all.

“Enough.” The voice cut through the crowd as if it were nothing. Luxe and Fuku fell back, dazed, and so did the boar. The crowd parted and through it came a deep purple snow leopard made of twisting smoke and light that had Velvet sucking in a breath. Behind it, came the owner of the naeta, a woman with severe eyes and glyphs wrapped around her wrists like thick, ever changing bracelets.

The glow of her mark, a crown, was visible even through the shirt she wore, drawing all eyes from the leopard, to her severe look, to the glow that emitted from between her shoulders on her upper back.

“Terrorism may be unforgiveable, but so is attacking a defenseless child.” Her voice rang clear through the silence. Even the music had stopped. “Call back your naeta and leave.” She levelled a look to the man, Coco, and Yatsu alike. “Now.”

Coco scowled. “You can-t—”

The snow leopard twisted through the people and stepped up to Luxe. Bigger, more muscular, and infinitely more poised. She growled. So did Luxe.

“I won’t ask again,” said the woman. She looked to the man. “Leave this child alone.”

“She’s a dirty—” The leopard cut him off, swiping at the boar with claws that gleamed despite being made of smoke. The man yelped. The boar vanished, smoke slithering like molasses back up his sleeve. “How did you…?”

The woman’s eyes glowed, faint, but purple all the same. She twirled the glyph around her wrist and let it float into the air. As it floated toward the man, facing up like a hanging picture, it grew in size until Velvet could only stare in shock.

Seven unique glyphs, each one more complex than the last, with shapes and connections that made her head spin just looking at them.

And she had no idea what it meant.

“Holy shit,” breathed Coco.

Yatsu snapped his fingers. Fuku vanished. Luxe followed a moment later at Coco’s whistle. The naeta in the crowd vanished. Slowly, the crowd dispersed, with the man leaving last. He grumbled and scowled but left all the same without causing anymore trouble.

“Who are you?” asked Yatsu, his voice wavering.

“Glynda Goodwitch,” said the woman, flipping her curled bangs from her face. The glyphs around her fell, as did the one that floated in midair. “Cleaner.”

Instinctively, Velvet stepped back. Coco, Yatsu, and Fox all did as well. _Cleaner._

No wonder her naeta had unsummoned another. No wonder that glyph had instantly parted the crowd. No wonder Velvet had no idea what it had meant.

Cleaner. Vale had a _Cleaner._

“I haven’t seen you before,” said Coco, pushing up her sunglasses. Her hand trembled as she did. Coco immediately shoved her hands into her jean pockets, as if to hide it. “New?”

“Just moved to Patch.” _Oh no._ Velvet swallowed and found she couldn’t, not properly. “See you around.”

She strolled past them, her leopard following behind her. “Take care,” she called. “Try not to get into anymore fights.”

She left, leaving the four to stare after her.

The mall was empty around them. Shopping wasn’t important anymore.

“Patch has a Cleaner.” The open fear in Fox’s voice had Velvet shivering. She rubbed her arms. “What do we do?”

“Pray,” said Yatsu. “What else?”

Velvet swallowed. “Can we go home?” she asked, her voice tiny. “I don’t want to shop anymore.”

“Yeah,” said Coco, stepping forward and resting a hand on Velvet’s shoulder. “Let’s go. We’ll take my car.”

The four turned and walked in the opposite direction Glynda Goodwitch had gone, each of them, silent and terrified, Velvet was certain. All she could think of, as they walked, was what, exactly, had happened in Patch to have them need a Cleaner, and why was she only just hearing about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **New Vocabulary:**  
>  _cleaner:_ (n.) [REDACTED.]
> 
> [EWTS Encyclopedia](http://anipendragon.tumblr.com/ewts)(Updated for Chapter 2)
> 
>  **Ramblings**  
>  Remember: all comments are valid, so long as they're not hate!


	3. The Watchmen of the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storm clouds roll in across the horizon, thick and dark with secrets. In the shadows of what is known and what is not, the veil between worlds thins until it is penetrable by breath alone. In those breaths, secrets. In those secrets, life.
> 
> And in life, death.
> 
> In the darkness, what is real and imaginary becomes impossibly similar, until not even those who see it through their own eyes can know what is real and what is fake.
> 
> But then, who are we to decide the difference?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gettin' spookier up in here!
> 
> ...That's all I got I'm tired.
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated.

**Pyrrha Nikos**

There was a thunderstorm brewing over the Sauv Forest, beyond the boundaries of the town of Patch, but still within the borders of the island. To the east, back toward Patch, the skies were blue and clear for miles, whispering of summer warmth and gentle breezes to soothe the heat.

Pyrrha kept west, away from Patch and deeper into the infinite shadows and mysteries of the forest. Undergrowth filled with mushrooms that couldn’t be disturbed, trees that grew ever taller, threatening to block out the sun, and shadows that crept forward, entangling themselves with the mist that lingered at ankle height, tugging at her clothes and drawing, whispering, pleading her forward.

Everyone knew the warnings about Sauv. Everyone knew the stories. Don’t go in after dark. Don’t go in at dusk or dawn. Don’t go on a full moon. A thousand rules for a thousand reasons and most of them never spoken aloud.

_Don’t go in during a storm._

Why not?

_The veil is thinnest then, and the monsters can mask their growls in the brontide._

Yet here she was, just after dawn, her own curiosity and hunger tugging her forward, into the shadows, into the trees, into the mists. Beyond the will-o’-the-wisps and the watchful owls, beyond the sunlight and the babbling streams that marked the edge of the forest. Beyond sound, beyond light, beyond people.

Beyond all that worked under established law.

And into that which made its own.

Pyrrha moved with purpose, though to what end she did not know. But it would not be wise to wander or delay, to stop and smell the flowers whose names burned her to say. If one wandered in the Sauv, one would find themself lost. And becoming lost in such a place was…

Unwise, to say the least.

As she crept, deeper into the forest, a sort of strange, unnatural calm spread over her. The trees grew thicker, the shadows darker, the canopy infinitely higher. Had the trees been so tall from the outside? Stretching so far as they did within?

No.

The overhead pictures of Sauv, taken by satellites and helicopters, showed it to be mostly uniform. The drones sent within disappeared before they reached such depths to notice the disparity. Or could machines even tell? They had no aura. No soul. No naeta. Would that cause such a difference?

Pyrrha didn’t know. In all her research of Sauv she’d never found one concrete, unchanging answer. But that was why she’d come here. That, and one other reason.

The Well of Knowledge.

Deep within Sauv, beyond the trees that grew without growing, beyond the mists that tugged and sang, beyond the shadows with their glowing eyes, and the owls that knew your true name; beyond the undergrowth, the fallen flowers, and the mushrooms that could not be disturbed; beyond all that was known, and all that was not, was the Well of Knowledge.

A well that, if asked, if gifted, if pleaded to, would answer any question called into its echoing, unending depths.

Or so the story went, anyway. As far as Pyrrha knew, no living person on Patch had gone to the well and returned. In fact, as the story went, all those who managed to find the well never returned, for their questions were too shallow, their hearts too impure, their stories too confused and filled with lies.

Only the pure of heart, the pure of mind, the pure of soul, could ask the well and not fall to its echoing depths. A person had to be humble, but Pyrrha didn’t know how one could be certain and humble, could be confident without angering the well.

She only knew she had no other place to go. No other place that would answer her question about the nightmares that had plagued her sleep for weeks. Nightmares that kept her awake and on edge long after they should have faded.

And she wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that she remembered almost nothing of them, except for shadows, blood, and fire; or the fact that she wanted to remember them, if only to know why they plagued her, and why she felt they were more than just nightmares. More than just dreams.

But what they would otherwise be, she had no idea.

Thus, she walked into the depths of Sauv, unsure what awaited her, but certain it was her best option.

_“Mom?”_

Pyrrha took a deep breath as the shadows seemed to circle her. Her entire body tensed, and she waited, holding her breath, until they moved on.

_“Nightmares again, paidi mou?”_

In the distance, bells and singing, bells and singing, bells and singing. The mist grew thicker and rose to her knees. It was no longer will-o’-the-wisps.

_“I don’t remember anything.”_

To her waist, then, and eyes within the mist. Red, red eyes that watched, waited, as their glow spread through the mist and turned it to blood.

_“I’m sure it’s nothing.”_

Pyrrha stepped back. The eyes followed. So did the shadows.

_“How can you know that?”_

Another step backward. Then another. She tripped, stumbling backward before her hands and back hit the dirt. Scratches. Bruises. The shadows followed.

_“Because you are a child of light. You have nothing to fear so long as you remain in the sun.”_

The shadows loomed.

_“The nightmares are always in darkness.”_

Pyrrha scrambled to her feet and turned, fleeing. She ran through Sauv with speed she hadn’t known she possessed. Feet pounding alongside the rhythm of her heart, her screams lost in her mind, her body silent but for the sharp sounds of her gasping breaths.

_“They are not real, paidi mou.”_

Branches scratched her face. She threw up her arms to protect her eyes. The twigs became teeth and claws, digging into her skin. The mist tugged at her ankles. She stumbled, caught herself, and kept running.

_“But—”_

The leaves grabbed at her clothes. The wind was voices, calling her back.

_Never venture into Sauv at dusk or dawn. Never lose yourself in the trees. Never stray from your path._

She ran, on and on, until her lungs burned, and her legs screamed, and she feared that she was running in circles, never to escape. Until her shoes and legs were splattered with mud and her face was scratched so deeply that blood trickled down her face, mixing with the tears on her cheeks.

_“Na ‘sai kata, Pyrrha. You will be fine.”_

The edge of the forest exploded around her. She fell, stumbling forward, and hit the ground on her hands and knees. No forest. Just the ground. The light. The breeze that was salty from the nearby sea.

Pyrrha gasped and crawled forward, hair hanging in a wind-twisted mess around her. A veil that hid her from that which had followed her in the forest.

Except…

Pyrrha looked behind her. The forest seemed normal. Kind, even. Beckoning.

She shivered and shoved herself to her feet. But when she went to rush the leaves and mud from her legs, she found nothing. No mud, to twigs, no leaves, no dirt.

She reached up, fingers brushing her face, but they came away clean. No blood. No mud. No tears. Nothing stung.

She looked as though she’d just left the house. As if nothing had ever happened.

As if Sauv hadn’t…

Hadn’t what?

Pyrrha put her face in her hands and forced herself to take a deep breath.

How much had happened? How much was imagined?

She cast one last glance over her shoulder, shivering at the way the mist stopped just at the edge of the forest, not daring to push out into the sun, and turned toward home.

_Home._

Maybe she was just overtired.

Yeah. That was probably it.

* * *

**Weiss Schnee**

If there was one small blessing to be gained from moving so far south, it was that Patch, surrounded by the ocean as it was, did not get as hot as most places this far from the north. Atlas’ idea of summer had been… odd to say the least. The temperature never rising enough to bring heat waves or discomfort. Moving away from Atlas, Weiss had feared she’d lose her energy, her drive, for it seemed to come with the coldest days.

But in Patch, while it had faded somewhat, it hadn’t disappeared.

A small blessing.

She sighed, staring out her window from the window seat she was tucked in. It was in Winter’s bedroom, but Winter was out in the kitchen, helping Klein with lunch. Whitley was in his own room, and Weiss’ room was empty.

And Klein… well, Klein didn’t have a bedroom. Klein had a fold-out couch. Which Weiss still wasn’t sure how she felt about. This whole place – Patch, the house, the people, the strange girl with the dancing freckles named Penny – was strange. The magic, the whimsy, the creatures, the _naeta._ Weiss had never seen so many naeta in her life as she’d seen since she’d arrived in Patch. Everyone kept them out, and seemed to think people strange for not doing the same.

Weiss reached up, her fingers going to a spot between her shoulder blades, where her mark, dull and scarred, lay. It was cool to the touch and rough even beneath the fabric of her shirt. She frowned, hand coming forward to rest in her lap with the other one.

She’d no idea what her naeta was, nor Whitley’s, nor Winter’s, nor Klein’s. Her father had done… something, when they were younger, to block them off. And Weiss wondered, chewing on the inside of her cheek, careful not to let hope bloom too brightly in her chest, if, now that he was gone, whatever he’d done would wear off.

She’d heard stories of the naeta, of their connections with their owners. How many were true? How many were exaggerated?

How many would she get to experience herself?

With a quiet sigh, Weiss reached for her mark again, her lips pressed together into a thin line. Maybe there was someone on the island who knew how to fix marks. Someone who could undo the damage.

Someone who could make her, and her brother and sister, feel a little less empty. A little less broken.

“Weiss?” Winter’s voice, still new enough that Weiss found herself starting whenever she heard her. “Did you want some lunch?”

Weiss smiled at Winter and shook her head, returning her gaze to the window. “I’m fine,” she murmured.

Several seconds passed. Then, Winter appeared at Weiss’ side, a slight frown on her face. She sat down on the other side of the window seat, her hands in her lap and her hair lightly curled around her face. She and Klein must have unpacked the curling iron this morning.

“What’s wrong?” asked Winter. She reached out and rested one hand atop Weiss’.

Weiss sighed, her gaze slipping from the window, to their joined hands, then to Winter’s face. A furrowed brow, pursed lips, and soft eyes.

“Do you think we’ll ever know our naeta?” she asked.

Winter’s mouth fell open, eyes growing wide, then soft, as she looked at Weiss. She lifted her free hand and touched the spot behind her left ear, where her own mark, also burnt, hid behind her hair.

“I don’t know.” Winter’s voice was soft, hoarse, barely audible despite the silence of the room. “I’ve never known mine.”

Seventeen, fifteen, and almost thirteen years old, yet no naeta. Their marks, burnt; their souls, fractured; their hearts, split.

“What are we, Winter?” asked Weiss, staring out the window. The clouds hung thick and dark in the sky, their bellies so low they almost seemed to graze the tops of the nearby trees. The thick taste of lightning lingered on her tongue, promising a storm, very, very soon.

“Broken, but not destroyed.” Winter stroked the back of Weiss’ hand with her thumb, her brow furrowed as she met Weiss’ gaze. “We’ll recover.”

“To what end?” Weiss’ words fell flat. What would they become, if they recovered? The broken children they’d been, before their father had turned into a complete monster? The numb, alcoholic shell of a woman their mother had become? Or something else, something they’d never been? Could they become something they’d never had the opportunity to be?

“I don’t know,” replied Winter. “But to whatever end, we’ll be together. I promise you that.”

Weiss smiled at Winter, her eyes watery. “Okay.” Winter leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Weiss’ forehead, lingering for a moment with her nose pressed into Weiss’ hair. “Thank you.”

“Always,” murmured Winter. She pulled back and smiled at Weiss, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “We’re family, Weiss. We’ll always be together.”

Weiss shifted her hands to squeeze Winter’s. “You’re a good sister.”

Winter flushed. “I try.”

Shuffling footsteps alerted them both, their heads lifting in unison to look at the door, where Klein came into view. He smiled at them, his cheeks ruddy and sweat beading on his forehead, no doubt from unpacking.

“Klein,” said Weiss, tilting her head. “Is everything okay?”

Klein nodded. “Quite,” he said, nodding, “I was hoping one of you might be persuaded in going to the corner store. We need a few things.”

Winter shrunk back, barely enough to be noticeable, but felt all the same. Weiss squeezed her hands again and smiled, then released them and got to her feet.

“I’d be happy to. Do you have a list?”

Klein nodded and gestured for her to follow. She followed him out the door and into the kitchen, where he handed her a list with his slanted, curly writing. There was nothing out of the ordinary on it – bread, milk, eggs, other staples they hadn’t had a chance to go get since they’d arrived. As well as some candy and snacks, all little things that made her heart warm. The cinnamon candies that Winter loved, the pop rocks that Whitley had become fascinated with, and her own favourite, cheap, overly processed sugar cookies with frosting as thick as the cookie and sprinkles that would last the apocalypse.

“Let me find you some money,” murmured Klein, digging into his wallet and producing a few bills. He passed them to Weiss, who tucked them into the pocket of her skirt – another new thing, a practical skirt, found by Klein at a bargain store – before adding the list to the pocket as well. “Will you be all right?”

Weiss nodded. “Of course.” The shop was only at the end of the street. Nothing to worry about.

She stepped forward and pulled him into a warm hug, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Klein squeezed back. He didn’t ask, but he didn’t need to. They both knew why all three of them had been thanking Klein since that day. “I’ll be right back.”

“Be safe!” Klein called after her as she headed down the hall and out the door.

She made it halfway down the driveway before a voice pulled her short.

“Weiss, wait up!” She paused, turning around to see Whitley running down the driveway toward her.

“I didn’t realize you wanted to come,” said Weiss. She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, tugging a bit at her ponytail.

Whitley shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels. “Well, Klein did say we should go exploring, and…” He glanced at his feet, worrying his lower lip. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

Her chest warmed, surprise startling her expression into wide eyes and parted lips. Whitley looked away, his cheeks flushing pink. In the strange, shadowed light of the pre-storm, just before noon, the difference in their complexions – hers much paler, with hints of blue from raised veins – had never been more prominent. In Atlas, she’d barely noticed it, but now…

Now, without the pale of Atlas’ light, the blue tint to every street light and window, he seemed darker than her, tinted with warm undertones that she and Winter lacked.

Weiss walked alongside Whitley, down the street and toward the store, struggling to push the thoughts of their differences, now noticed but not seen before, aside.

“I’m sorry.” Whitley’s words broke the silence, shattering Weiss’ thoughts and pulling her back to the surface.

She blinked, looking at Whitley, who stared at the ground, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “…For what?” Her words trembled, slightly, unsure and confused.

“Father, mostly.” Whitley’s gaze flicked to her, then immediately back to the ground. His mouth pulled tight against his teeth, but it didn’t stop it from trembling. “I… I was a monster, Weiss. You and Winter certainly didn’t deserve that.”

“Whitley.” She stopped and pivoted in front of him, taking him by the shoulders. “We all did what we had to in order to survive. For Winter, that was hiding who she was, for me, it was following his every command, and for you, that was mimicking his every action.” She reached up and brushed his bangs from his eyes. He looked up at her, his gaze soft and watery. Vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to seeing from him. “None of us blame you for that. You were a child trying to survive. Just like us.”

Whitey blinked a few times, tears welling up before falling down his cheeks. “You really think that?” His voice cracked, maybe from emotion, maybe from puberty. He sniffled.

“I do.” Weiss blinked back tears of her own, struggling to hold herself together. “You were _never_ our father. You’re infinitely kinder, gentler, and more nurturing. You’re everything I ever wanted in a brother.” She pressed their foreheads together, taking a deep and shaky breath. “Okay?”

He sniffled and wiped at his nose with the back of one hand. “Okay.”

“Good,” said Weiss. She pulled back and took one of his hands in hers. “Now, let’s go get those groceries.” She squeezed his hand and led them forward, her chest heavy and light at once.

* * *

**Nora Valkyrie**

The sky broke like a dam, flooding the island, the town, and the backyard in one fell swoop. Nora watched from her bedroom window, her eyes wide and her grin wider. Lightning thrummed through the sky, flashing between the bellies of the clouds. It thrummed through her veins as well, pulsating with the booms of thunder that rattled the windows and roared through the trees, flattening the leaves against the branches and bending them against the island.

“Nora?” Neon’s voice, quiet and concerned. Nora turned and found Neon leaned against their door, her lips pressed into a thin line and her hair, usually puffed up and in ponytails, hung down, just passed her shoulders. Her tail flicked around her waist, twitching back and forth with the twitching of her human ears.

“Hey, sis,” said Nora. She hopped off her bed and skipped over toward Neon, bouncing on her heels as she stood in front of Neon. Even slumped against the frame, Neon had a good two inches on her. “You okay?”

Neon cast a look out the window, to the rain that came down in sheets so thick that Nora could barely see the blurry colours of the yard beyond. Her gaze flicked to Nora’s bed, which held her camera and her summer homework, which she still hadn’t finished, and a book Ren had recommended her half a dozen times. She still hadn’t opened it, but the cover was pretty – it had some tarot cards spread out behind a glowing, smoky ball. She couldn’t read the font, but he’d said it was a book she’d really enjoy.

“It’s not a normal storm,” said Neon, her voice barely audible. She stepped past Nora and sat down on her own bed, which was piled high in one corner with magazines that she’d been sorting to put in her magazine shelf, which was mounted above her bed. “It feels… angry.”

Nora cast a look out the window again, taking a deep breath. The window was cracked, just a tiny bit, just enough for her to fill her lungs with thunder and electricity, with the thick of the clouds and the howls of the wind.

“I can’t tell,” said Nora. She skipped back across the room and flopped onto her own bed, which was pressed up against the window. On her back, she rolled a bit to look at Neon, upside down, and cocked her head a bit. “Why’s it angry?”

Neon shook her head. “I dunno. It’s like, just angry.” She shrugged. “I don’t get it.” She hugged her legs, pressing her lips together into a thin line. “I wish Dads were home. Do you think they’ll be home soon?”

Nora rolled onto her stomach, scooting back to rest her chin on her folded arms. “I dunno. They weren’t supposed to be gone long. They just wanted some groceries, but that was before the rain.” She huffed, pursing her lips together. “Maybe they got stuck.”

Neon groaned and flopped back on her bed, sending magazines and craft supplies everywhere. Maybe she’d been making a collage? Nora couldn’t remember.

“I don’t like it, Nora, it’s a totally freak storm and it feels like it’s trying to get in the house.” Neon scowled at the ceiling, her face scrunching up and her tail swinging back and forth in sharp, jerky motions. “But, like, where did it come from?”

Nora hummed. “I dunno. Maybe we should call?”

“No signal.” Neon held up her phone, wagging it in midair. “Haven’t had one since it started raining.”

“Weird,” said Nora. She held out one hand and Neon tossed the phone to her. Nora turned it over a couple times, but it looked fine. Dad had even gotten the screen replaced last week after Neon had accidentally dropped it down the stairs.

For the fifth time.

Maybe Dad and Pop should have just bought her another indestructible phone case. Even if she’d managed to break like, the last three.

Lightning flashed across the top of her window and the phone screen lit up. No signal, no wi-fi, nothing. If it wasn’t for the call screen, Nora would have assumed it just didn’t have a SIM card. But it did, but nothing else seemed to work.

Nora tossed the phone back to Neon and grabbed her own phone. No signal, no wi-fi. Nothing.

So, the storm had knocked out all the wireless signals? Except, the TV downstairs was still on, last Nora had seen.

“Hey, Neon? Is the TV still working?” asked Nora.

Neon shook her head. “Nah, that’s why I came upstairs. I thought maybe you’d, I dunno, sneezed or something.”

Nora pouted. She hadn’t knocked out the power with a sneeze for almost a _year._ And she’d been sick! She couldn’t be blamed for that, right?

“Weird,” Nora murmured. She frowned, then pushed herself up so she sat cross-legged, her hands resting on her ankles. “Is anything working? I mean, the power’s still on.” She gestured to the lights above them, which flickered, dimmed, then went back to normal, as if to mock her. She pouted.

“No, it’s not,” said Neon, leaning against the wall behind her. The long sides of the beds faced each other, so they both sat, cross-legged, across from each other. “Power’s out all over the island. Pretty sure you’re keeping the house on.”

Nora blinked. What? There was no way she was… But then, this was a really powerful storm, and she hadn’t been keeping track of herself. But her pump hadn’t been going off at all…

Nora tugged up the front of her shirt and checked her pump, which read at full battery power. That… definitely wasn’t right. It’d been yelling at her to change the battery all day. She’d just kept getting distracted.

Taking a deep breath, Nora lifted one hand and closed her eyes. Electricity thundered through her veins, shouting for her attention. She tugged at it, twisting the power around until it leapt to her fingers and ignited her vision. She opened her eyes. The world seemed brighter, fiercer, and a lot paler than before, like there was a white-blue camera filter on everything.

She lifted her hand a little higher, toward the light, and dropped all the electricity in her body into her stomach in a tight ball. No more output, no more background electricity.

The lights went out. Neon yelped. Nora let the electricity surface again and all the lights flickered back on, dimmer than before.

“Huh,” said Nora, blinking.

“Nora, what the heck?” asked Neon, flailing her arms in midair.

Nora pulled the lights back up to full power. Somewhere in the house, the AC clicked back on.

“Guess I am controlling the house,” said Nora. She shrugged. “Oh well.”

Neon groaned and flopped forward, face first, onto the bed. “You’re _so_ weird sometimes.”

Nora shrugged. “What’cha gonna do about it?” She grinned at Neon, cheeks warm from the electricity that sang through her veins. “It’s not my fault you’re just normal.”

“You are _so_ going to regret that,” said Neon, flipping her bangs from her face. Nora stuck out her tongue at Neon, who rolled her eyes in response.

Neon’s mark, a pinkish-orange heart under her left eye, ignited, shining over the whole room. From it, pinkish-orange smoke rose and twisted in midair, forming up into a similarly coloured tabby cat. She mewed at Neon, circling in her lap before nuzzling down and settling.

“Hey, Miku,” said Neon, stroking the cat’s fur. She purred in response, nuzzling into Neon’s hand. “Where’s Magnhild?” Nora reached up, touching her own mark, which settled in the middle of her collarbone, at the base of her throat. It was a heart in a much pinker tint that Neon’s, and it ignited, swirling pink smoke around Nora before her naeta, a pink racoon dog, wound her way around Nora’s shoulders, nuzzling in close.

“Right here,” said Nora. Magnhild, despite being connected to Nora’s soul, had never been very fond of lightning or storms. She never knew why. They were part of her, so why was Magnhild scared of them? “She’s been hiding.”

“Weird.” Thunder cracka-thoomed overhead, shaking the window and swinging the light. Neon yelped and jumped, scooting back into the corner of her bed. She wrapped her arms around her knees and quivered, hugging herself tightly. Miku mewed and climbed into her lap, wriggling herself into the crook between Neon’s stomach and raised legs.

“I _hate_ this,” hissed Neon, staring at the floor with watery eyes. “It’s so loud and dumb and like, unnatural.”

Nora climbed off her own bed and crawled across Neon’s. She scooted over to Neon and wrapped her arms around her sister’s shoulders. Neon curled closer to her, shaking even harder than the windows.

“I know,” said Nora into Neon’s hair. She hugged her closer. “But storms never hurt me, so as long as I stay next to you, they won’t hurt you either. Okay?”

Neon sniffled. “Okay.”

Magnhild wrapped herself around Neon’s shoulders and cooed. Together, the four huddled as far away from the window as possible. Nora kept the lights on and held Neon as tight as she could.

She wished there were more people out there not scared of storms. Everyone in her house was.

It felt almost like they were scared of her.

But she tried not to take it personally.

It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t understand them, after all.

* * *

**Neptune Vasilias**

The rain blinded Neptune to the world beyond his house. The windows so drenched and attacked that he couldn’t see the darkness for the world. It was maybe early afternoon, though it was blacker than night, blacker than the ocean.

Neptune shivered and scooted away from the windows in his kitchen, clutching the two mugs of hot chocolate close to his chest.

In the living room, Sun was sprawled, upside-down, on the oversized couch, absently flipping through channel after channel of “Please Stand By” messages with his tail.

“Nothing?” asked Neptune, moving around the couch to drop onto it next to Sun.

Sun groaned and dropped the remote from his tail, using it to take one of the mugs from Neptune. “Yeah. There’s no wi-fi, no TV, no nothing.” Sun set the mug down on the coffee table and rolled over. He settled against the big cushions of the couch, half disappearing. “What are we supposed to do?”

Neptune shrugged and sipped his hot chocolate, humming when the flavour coated his tongue and warmed his chest.

“I dunno. I guess Scarlet and Sage aren’t coming over,” replied Neptune. “Wonder how their date went, yesterday.”

Sun made a face and snagged his hot chocolate off the table with his tail, downing half of it in one go. His cheeks flushed dark, along with his ears. He yelped and dropped the drink back onto the table.

“Hot, hot, hot!” He waved his hands in front of his mouth, tongue hanging out. “Ow, dude! You were supposed to put milk in!”

Neptune sipped his drink, eyes twinkling as he struggled not to smirk. “I made it with milk,” he replied, as his smile cracked his expression.

Sun gave him a flat look. “You sly motherfucker.”

Neptune snorted. Hot chocolate went up his nose. He choked, setting down the drink and leaning forward on his elbows. His breaths came in sharp gasps, hot burning his lungs and chest. Sun thumped hard on his back and Neptune gasped, his eyes welling up with tears.

“You okay?” asked Sun. Neptune leaned his head between his knees and gave a shaky nod, still wheezing.

“Warn a guy, would you?” he gasped out. He sat up slow, wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeves. “Jeez, man.”

Sun shrugged and flopped back into the couch again. “Ya know, they didn’t say anything about their date, last night.” He cast a look over to Neptune, his brow furrowing and his lips tugged into a tight frown. “You think it went okay?”

Neptune shrugged in turn, leaning back into the couch as well. “I dunno. I hope so.” There’d been weeks of panic and planning before Sage had asked Scarlet out. Neptune remembered sitting up with him on video calls, night after night, working him through his fears that everything would go terribly. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the most confident one of the four – that title belonged to Sun – but he was good with anxiety, at least. Well, other people’s anxiety, at least. Jury was still out on his own. When he’d finally managed to convince Sage to ask Scarlet out, it’d gone pretty well, if Neptune did say so himself.

“Do you think it’ll change us?” asked Sun. He tilted his head to look at Neptune, his grey-blue eyes, changed from magic, just like his hair, despite him being fifteen, soft and vulnerable. Neptune swallowed hard.

_Not as much as I would._ He shook off the thought and refocused himself on the present.

“The four of us?” guessed Neptune. Sun nodded. “I dunno. I don’t think so. No matter the rest, we’re friends, dude. That’s who we are.” He shrugged, looking away from Sun. Guilt weighed down his chest until he could feel it squeezing the air from his chest. “Nothing’s gonna change that.”

_Except me. Except my feelings for you._

Neptune forced a smile, though he figured it probably didn’t touch his eyes. Not that it mattered, he was wearing contacts instead of his glasses. Squinting and tears could be excused from that. Especially since he’d been wearing them since just after dawn.

Stupid waves. Stupid weather. Always waking him up early.

Not that living in-land would be any better. The only time he ever had, he’d almost died from it. Never again.

“Yeah, I guess.” Sun shifted over as he spoke, tucking himself against Neptune’s side. He hummed, head resting on Neptune’s shoulder. Neptune tensed for a moment, then relaxed. This was nothing new. He rested his own cheek atop Sun’s head.

“Relax, Sun,” murmured Neptune, yawning. Why was he so tired? Must have been the weather. “They’re our friends, even if they end up getting married someday, they’re still our friends.”

Sun snorted, his eyes sliding closed. “Married?” he echoed. “Dude, it was one date.”

Neptune thought about Sage, wringing his hands as he begged Neptune for help. About Scarlet, who had called Neptune after Sage asked them out to scream at Neptune in shock and excitement and fear. It’d taken him two hours to calm them down and help them prepare for the date.

One date. Yeah, maybe. But they’d been pining for awhile now. Almost as long as Neptune had.

Something both had been quick to point out, before Neptune had told them to fuck off.

“Yeah, true,” said Neptune. He slid his arm around Sun’s waist and let his own eyes drift closed. “Who knows, man. They’ll tell us when they want to.”

Sun hummed and scooted a little closer to Neptune. “Yeah…” He yawned. “Naptime?”

Neptune hummed in response. “Yeah.”

The two drifted, neither really speaking or moving much, both slipping into that spot that was halfway between waking and sleep. As he drifted, Neptune found himself lulled by the rain, and by the steady rhythm that seemed to transform into a march, then a heartbeat, then something else entirely.

Something he couldn’t place, but filled him with dread and twisted his dreams into something dark, something forgotten.

Something not of this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Encyclopedia will be updated by the weekend (end of November, 2018). Comments are appreciated.
> 
> Cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr.](http://anipendragon.tumblr.com/)


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